Final Fantasy XIV
by Omega Gilgamesh
Summary: Original Final Fantasy Adventure, taking traditional and new themes. A dream for the adventures of tomorrow becomes a quest exploring the mysteries of the past. As friendships and alliances are forged, truth and pain will be exposed.
1. Prologue

**Final Fantasy: Bonds of Trust**

By C.S. Rife, AKA: Omega Gilgamesh

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy, all its sequels and spin-offs, and all franchise related locations, concepts, and themes all are owned by Square-Enix. Any legal infringement is purely unintentional, and will immediately be corrected if found at fault.

Author's Note: I've decided to move this to the FFVII section. The reason being that I couldn't justify continuing this story with so few people reading it over in the Final Fantasy Crossover's section. I'm like a business, if I don't get customers, I eventually die off.

**Prologue: The Moon's Watery Reflection**

In and out and through the beams of silvery light cast from the gentle night's moon, a figure ran through the streets in a virtual panic. Along the way, as his need for air failed to overpower his need to arrive at his destination, he tried to rationalize what he had seen out there from the rooftops in the brisk autumn night. It had to have been the moon's light playing tricks on him, or some spirit fooling around with illusions. Yet no matter what he told himself, he failed to hold back this sense of terror.

The streets, made of sand compressed to near stone-like hardness, sparkled brightly in the brilliant moonlight, illuminating the familiar streets and alleyways and corridors to where he needed to go. And he saw, far off in the distance and above the rooftops, the walls of Lunaqua. He knew, looking up at those walls, the walls that have stood against endless armies and never fell, will be rubble come the morning.

Running off the main road into an alleyway between two houses of clay and sand with swirls of blue and white marble, he found a trap door leading to his destination: the catacombs.

Pulling up the heavy wooden lid, he jumped down the hole, not caring for the ladder, and found himself in familiar territory. Lights adorned the ceiling, illuminating the niches where skeletons remained, and he saw the familiar iron door that was out of place in the sand-stone mausoleum. He ran over to it, and pounded it so fast the code rhythm was hard to pick up.

A moment later, it opened to show a room with computer consoles and communication equipment, all being attended to by various mechanics and technicians. His followers, his brethren.

He made his way through the room, noticing instantly the increase in activity, until he caught sight of a tall man, with tanned skin contrasting his silver hair done in a sleek ponytail, wearing navy blue trousers and light blue coat with tails. Argist, Duke of Lunaqua, and the very man who accorded them refuge in his city-state. There, few would know of them, they could carry out their mission in secret. The man was standing anxiously next to a radar station, waiting impatiently for the technician to finish interpreting the data on the screen.

"M'lord." He greeted the Duke, walking up to them, and then spoke to the technician, eagerly pounding away at the keys. "Give me a report."

"Lord-Aegis, sir, it is difficult to give any exacts at this time." The young technician answered. "All I can tell is there are at least fifteen thousand units, and a lot of them are big, and I mean big."

Knowing there was little to be gained from staying with him, the Lord-Aegis of the secret order of Luminosus Finitor moved to another station, giving out the order, "Display them." What he saw on the viewing screen turned his blood cold, but he dared not show it in front of his men and women. Though the monitor's image was dim compared to the room, he saw what he need to. Monsters; hundreds of them in that one scene, ranging from slithering Basilisks to Malboros to Elnoyles and the towering Behemoths.

"How in the hell?" Argist murmured in awe and shock. "What force…what power could send something like _this_ at us?"

The Lord-Aegis could think of no entity, short of the Gods themselves, capable of controlling monsters, to give them a common goal. This wasn't some natural occurrence, it was an army. And he knew exactly who the target was.

"M'lord," he spoke to the Duke with some urgency, "they're not after the townspeople, they won't hurt them if they are evacuated out the eastern gate." Not waiting for a response, he spoke to his second in command, a slight woman of auburn hair with a powerful voice belying her small size, "Myrna, give the order to evacuate Cid via the emergency sewer circuit. With any luck, he'll be out of harm's way inside of five minutes."

Myrna nodded, and answered quickly, "Yes sir, Lord-Aegis, but if I may suggest getting the children through there first? Cid will take some time to transport through the underground waterway, and we can get them out faster than we can-"

"Cid's safety takes precedence!" He stated. "The children will leave via the North and South Gates, hopefully missing the crowds, but if we lose Cid, we lose everything! His safety comes before theirs, or yours, or even mine, is that understood?"

After a moment, Myrna nodded. Clicking on her ear-piece, her voice resonated over the inter-com, "This is Lord-Shield Myrna, we have an emergency!"

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She thought she heard sirens, but she wasn't sure. She was just getting over the vertigo she had every time she was put in that glass tube, forced to be submerged in and breath in that terrible green liquid. As painful as the lightheadedness of the tube was, it wasn't as bad as when she was awake and they did experiments on her. They didn't tell her that's what it was called, telling her they were 'helping her get better', but she knew that it was experimentation. Adults always assumed she was too young to know anything, when she was already four and a half.

Her mind still cloudy from the liquid and metal patches attached to her head, she looked over at the green tube next to hers. She knew there were others in the lab, but this tube was the only one she knew someone else was in. Often, the other child's hand would press against the glass. That was the only part of him or her than she could see clearly. She often pressed her hand against the glass wall as well, hoping the other kid could see her. It had been so long since she had been with another kid. For so long, it was only her and the adults, and the child merely a few feet away, whom she knew must have been as lonely as she was. If only once, the adults would let her and the kid next to her out at the same time, and maybe even play together, if only for a little while, she would feel a lot better, the pain of this lab would be so much more tolerable.

Suddenly, she heard the valve at the bottom of the tube open, and the green stuff start to drain out. She ducked as best she could in her bed-like restraint as it started to go below her head, and she started the painful, violent process of coughing up the stuff she was forced to breathe in and out for hours at a time. Air tasted so much better, so much sweeter and refreshing.

Now that the green liquid was gone, she could see the lab better. People were moving every which way, and she could hear the siren blaring loudly. She couldn't wait to get out of her restraints and cover her ears. She didn't know what was going on, but she hoped the experiments were stopping.

Suddenly, the top of the tube was pushed off, and an elderly man, one of the scientists she recognized, reached in and quickly started taking off her restraints before the liquid was completely drained out. The moment she was free, he picked her up and held her close to him as he started to run out of the room, not caring if the green stuff got on his clean white clothing.

"Mister, where are we going?" She asked him, somewhat frightened. As she was carted off across the stone room of the laboratory, she turned her head to the tubes she spent so much of her time in, and saw they were draining the tube next to hers. "Wait!" She said, knowing this might be her only chance to see the child that had been her neighbor for so long.

Before she could see even the top of the child's head, the door into the hallway closed behind them, cutting off the sight she waited for so long to see.

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Under the clear sky, the crystal moon illuminated the green fields of the Lunaqua, showing it all in milky splendor. Just a mile west of the cliffs overlooking the ocean, the city, five miles across encased by hundred-foot-thick stone walls, was a true piece of art. Its sand and exotic stone craftsmanship was a wonder all throughout Terra. Its roads bobbed up and down, side to side, all like flowing waves still in time. From the view on the bluffs to the south, he saw the use of turquoise stone and white sand on the streets and buildings gave the city, as a whole, the image of water crashing onto sand.

And there, to the west, an army of monsters fought with teeth and claws and magicks to break through the wall. It would be mere minutes now before they were through. This was an unexpected turn of events, but in its long life, the being learned to roll with change.

The giant tiger, glowing in gold and white stripes, observed the scene miles away on those bluffs, witnessing the monsters break through the wall long before the people could begin to evacuate.

"Another beginning has begun." It muttered aloud.

A few minutes later, a great flash of light emerged from within the city, and a gigantic form began to take shape. As its visage became visible in the moonlight, the Golden Tiger bore witness to yet another turn of events, "And possibly the beginning of an end as well." The golden being watched on.

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The still winds whipped at his face as King Deiomoth rode his chocobo, leading his men, to Lunaqua. The Courier Airship took them the majority of the way, taking mere hours instead of days, and was parked a few miles behind them, not wanting to come close to the dust cloud.

Deiomoth had been to Lunaqua many times, for diplomatic business and personal time, and had come to be good friends with the Duke. Late last night, he received an emergency transmission that his neighbor was under siege, and he needed assistance. Deiomoth knew the history of the city's walls, and that anything that posed a threat to the Dukedom was something he wouldn't dare underestimate. His fears only grew as, from the deck of the airship, he saw a giant dust cloud where the city-capital was supposed to be. He made the painful choice to hoof the last few miles for caution's sake.

As he and his military elite rode just steps behind him came close to the city, the dust finally began to disperse. They could hear no noise, no sounds of battle, and instead of quelling his fears, this only intensified them. As the dust gave way to the sight what was left of Lunaqua, King Deiomoth let his breath hitch out of shock.

Where the city-state of Lunaqua once stood now rested a five mile, uneven disk of glass, forged out of the sands that once made up the capital.

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End of Prologue


	2. Two Winds on the Moutain

Quick Author's Note: If anyone is freaked out by the idea of eating a piglet, go out to any farm and they'll tell you the younger animals have the most tender meat. I don't like the idea either, but I'm trying to be accurate to rural society.

**Chapter One: Two Winds on the Mountain**

A light layer of sweat rested on his brow as he peered through the wisps of mist to see his prey: a bull Mountain Stag. It was nibbling peacefully on a rare patch of grass growing out of the mountain side. Sigurd knew that if it noticed him before he could hit it, it would run. He may have been a native to the region, his body and blood sired by generations of men and women who lived daily on the Lauserian Mountain Range, but even he couldn't traverse the rocky slopes, more vertical than horizontal, faster than a stag.

Through the late afternoon mists, he could see it was still over a mile to the bottom of the valley where the mountain slope started to even out; if this stag caught wind of him, it would be gone. He couldn't allow that. Getting any closer would be dangerous, so he had to take the shot where he was.

Reaching behind his back to reach into his quiver, he pulled out an arrow. As he nocked it on his bow, his elbow brushed the pommel of his cheap iron sword. It was useless at this point, he couldn't catch up with the stag, but he was certain old man Yamasa could. Driving that thought out of his head, he focused on the target ahead of him. He pulled back the waxed string to his cheek, and regulated his breathing so it wouldn't affect his aim. He was about thirty yards away, uphill, maybe twenty-two yards higher than the target; he adjusted to compensate for the trajectory, and aimed a little lower, an old hunter's trick.

Sigurd waited a moment longer than necessary, then another moment, and then let the arrow fly. The stag heard the string snap, lowered its body to get away, moving its heart right into the arrows path. The arrow hit its mark. The stag bull took off in a heartbeat. Sigurd ran after it, but took his time to carefully navigate the rocky crops covering the mountain side, lest he fall and hit a lot of sharp stones before coming to a stop.

He only had to travel about a thousand feet down the mountain to reach the dead stag. If he had hit it in the lungs, it would've gotten maybe a mile before dying, and Sigurd would have had to carry it a lot further. Sighing in contentment, he looped his bow over his head so it rested on his shoulder, and carefully lifted the stag onto his other shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the exertion of carrying it back up the mountain and back home.

He made each step carefully, not wanting to lose his balance; it slowed him down, but he estimated he would get back before dark. The stag's wound was slowly leaking a tiny stream of blood onto his brown leather jerkin. He wore it over his white linen shirt to keep it from staining, as blood washes from leather easier. His blue pants were covered by brown leather chaps, making whatever slips and trips he made a lot less painful, also protecting his pants from the drips of blood.

From the books he had read, it seemed like very few city folk had to hunt, that they bought nearly all their food. Sigurd considered his life to be fairly comfortable, work for your food and take pride in the fruits of your labor, but he had a hard time imagining living in luxury like that; and supposedly, royalty had it even better than that. He was comfortable with his life, but sometimes he wished something different would come along sometimes. 'It's always nice to put spices in yer food from time to time' his uncle would say.

He had left Twin Peaks on a few occasions, a couple times for fishing and some just for the fun of traveling, and it were those times that were the most exhilarating times he could remember. He had often considered striking out on his own as a Wanderer, an adventuring vagabond who lived off the land, traveling from city to city, selling monster hides and other spoils, working and hunting out of necessity. He knew such romantic ideas weren't healthy in excess, as his uncle would say, 'the higher you fly, the harder you will hit the ground when you come back down', but lately he wondered if this itch would ever go away.

After an hour of climbing up and across the mountains toward the cloud-line, he became aware of someone else on the mountain besides himself.

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She had to stop to catch her breath again. She wiped sweat off her brow, or at least she thought it was mostly sweat; she was close to the cloud-line, merely a hundred feet away from the bottom of those nimbuses, so it could have been just condensation. She didn't know, and didn't really care; she couldn't travel more than half a mile before being forced to catch her breath. She moved her dark brown bangs out of her eyes before gathering her waist length hair behind her, and then remembered she didn't have anything to tie it together.

Sighing, she sat down on a large stone to overlook Lauseria Valley. The mountains surrounding it were mostly loose rock and dirt, but the valley was lush with green grass and flowers, with a beautiful river running down it, which would eventually lead to Lake Lauseria, which would drain out into the ocean some fifty miles away. The entire sight was beautiful, and one of the reasons she stayed a Wanderer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a bit of movement. There she saw a young man, probably her age, moving toward her. She must've been tired if she hadn't noticed him until now; a fundamental survival skill for Wanderers was to know the surroundings and anything within them.

He was tall, with the thick limbs of a countryman, broad shoulders, one of which carried a large deer or something, with a bow, quiver, and a long sword at his hip. He had silver hair, the back of which was long enough that it was in a short pony-tail, and he had a thin, angular face with deep blue eyes.

She lowered her hand cautiously to one of her pistols; not all countrymen were kind to strangers, and there were some Wanderers who liked to hunt other Wanderers for sport or to lessen the competition.

He stopped a respectable, safe distance of fifty feet, and called out, "Greetings, Wanderer. You lost?" His tone was almost purely inquisitive, no hint of a threat.

She called back, "I'm not lost." _At least, not completely._ She silently added, but she'd be damned if she'll admit it. "How far 'till Twin Peaks?" She asked, silently praying she was on the right mountain.

Keeping his other hand on his catch, the young man pointed up the northwestern face of the mountain, "About five miles that way, at the summit." Whatever relief she felt that she was on the right path was overshadowed by hearing the distance. "I'm heading back there, so if you want to travel with me, I'd accept the company."

She kept her face neutral, though she was torn between accepting and not. She didn't accept help from anyone, let alone a farm boy or whatever he was, but at that point she was ready to do just about anything to find a warm meal and a soft bed. "Fine, I'll go with you." _I'm _just_ following him; I'm not actually being helped._ She stubbornly told herself.

Despite the steep grade and his heavy load, he crossed the distance to her swiftly and with little trouble. "I'm Sigurd Rhine." He said, offering his hand.

"Brynhilda Wagner." She introduced, taking his hand.

He nodded, and started walking across the side of the mountain as if it were as easy as when it was flat. She suppressed a moan and followed him.

"Hey, Brynhilda," he called back to her as soon as she started following him, "if you notice one of those buzzards looking at us funny, could you let me know? I'd rather not be surprised by them, and lose some of this stag."

Buzzards? She looked away from the mountain, and saw off in the distance a few avian circling. She had earlier assumed them to be small birds, but on closer inspection, she saw they were, indeed, buzzards. _Damn it!_ She silently cursed. _No, he just knows this area better than you, that doesn't mean anything._

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"Okay, that's enough." Brynhilda stated twenty minutes after they started their hike. He had been aware that she was breathing hard, but he saw she was really panting when she stopped and sat down.

"Hmm, must be the altitude." He murmured before gently setting down the stag and sitting down as well.

"What about the altitude?" She asked through her panting. He wasn't certain, but she sounded somewhat frustrated.

"The air's thinner this high up." He explained. "Your body's working overtime to provide oxygen to your muscles. After a few days your blood will start carrying more oxygen, and you'll be fine."

She continued looking down at the ground in front of her, arms resting on her knees, for a few seconds before muttering, "So that's why I'm so off today."

"Excuse me?"

"Forget it." She answered, dismissively.

She was quite an interesting sight, he mused; she was tall and slender, and not very imposing, with her tan pants, non-lace boots, cream blouse and thick yellow jacket, but her step was secure and her eyes sharp, very much like Yamasa when they were sparring. She seemed innocuous, but he wouldn't have been surprised if she could pull out and use those two pistols of hers, as well as any other skills she might have, in the blink of an eye.

After a few minutes, she spoke up, "How did you know I was a Wanderer?"

"No one else comes to these parts, especially since there are no Roads near here. How did you come around these parts, anyway?"

She waved her hand in a 'who knows' gesture. "I guess I wanted to go somewhere I've never been."

Sigurd knitted his brow in surprise; if Lauseria was her first choice of places she'd never been to, she must've traveled most of Terra. "Where've you been?"

"Oh, here and there." She answered, her gazing wandering.

He was about to ask her to be more specific, but guessed she wasn't going to be. He waited a couple more minutes, then stood back up and resumed his hike, and his companion wordlessly, and without complaint, followed.

Nearly an hour later, they reached the summit line, and continued their hike using it as their path. The stone and mortar walls became visible right when he knew it would, right at the point in the path it always did the countless times he traversed the summit path, and it took the two another twenty minutes to reach the southern gate. The walls were a sturdy amalgamation of grey and black, with a gate that was anachronistic, even for such an outlying village, made simply of lashed together tree trunks.

Sigurd whistled at the base of the gate. The day's gate keeper stuck his adolescent, freckled head out, and called, "Ah Sig, you're here to pay me that venison you owe me?"

"Like hell I will!" Sigurd shouted back, "How many times do I have to tell you 'I _never agreed_ to that bet'?"

"At least until the next time I ask." He answered before his head disappeared over the wall. A moment later, the sounds of cranks and pulleys activating came before the gate started inching up. Within a minute, the sharpened tips were safely over their heads, and the two walked into the village.

Twin Peaks was comprised of two summit peaks, one to the south-east and the other to the north-west, dividing the village roughly in half. The north-western peak, dubbed The Steeple, due to its steep slopes, was carved out into steps and was used for agriculture. The other, known as The Crest, was the residential area, with huts and houses and a hundred chimneys; half a mile wide and long, taking up just under half the area within the village walls.

Sigurd turned around and watched the gate to make sure no animals got in while the hydraulic pumps from the spring slowly lowered it back down. Despite a population of two hundred and fifty residents within an area just over a square mile, a rogue raccoon was difficult to catch.

When it was shut, Sigurd turned his attention back to his companion. She looked about ready to drop. "The large building there is the Inn. Madam Frigg includes hot baths with the room and meals."

Brynhilda, for a moment, looked like she was about to cry, but immediately composed herself and thanked Sigurd before moving, as fast as she could while still technically walking, toward the large inn.

Securing the stag on his shoulder, Sigurd started down the familiar dirt road. The village comprised of picketed fences surrounding houses of brick, wood, and in some cases, straw, as well as a few burrows and sheds for storage, as the hill gently sloped up toward the peak. Akaji over on the western border of the residential district owned the only vehicle in the village, a ruddy truck that the kids called 'old dirt'. Yamasa, an old man who in his youth was a highly skilled Wanderer who made his fortune and retired to the tiny rural village of Twin Peaks, lived in a small house on the north-eastern most part of the Crest, about as far from Sigurd's house as one could be. For years, he had taken lessons from Yamasa at the behest of his uncle because he was 'way too rowdy for a ten year old'. The old man was hesitant at first, but eventually agreed to train the young man in the ways of the sword and defensive magic.

Sigurd's home lay near the mid-southern region, in a house with brown chocobo feather thatching, a privilege for the village wranglers, and a small barn. Behind the house, enclosed between the housing and the carved out wall of the hill, lay the small family graveyard, where Sigurd's parents and grandparents were laid to rest.

His mother fell ill and died when he was just a baby, but he had some vague memories of his father. Mostly, he remembered wanting to know why his father, Sigmund, wouldn't wake up, and being confused when others tried to explain what death was, and that his father was 'in a better place'. _But he's right there,_ he remembered yelling in frustration,_ he hasn't gone anywhere!_ Though he didn't remember his father well, he remembered him being very fun and kind, always at his son's beck and call. His uncle told him Sigmund likely doted on him because he took his mother's death hard.

Sigurd carefully opened the fence so he wouldn't drop his catch, and stepped onto his property right as his uncle walked out of the barn with Boko, their brown chocobo, in tow. His uncle's face brightened at the sight of the stag on his shoulder. "Ah, good timing, m'boy, I had just finished feed ol' Boko here."

Siegfried, Sigurd's father's brother, shared the same tall, broad frame Sigurd did, but little else. Those who knew his father always told him he resembled him greatly, right down to the silver hair. Siegfried had black hair, cut short, with grey at the temples, and had a wide round face opposed to Sigurd's thin, angular one.

Siegfried tethered Boko to a fence before moving over to his nephew. "Gimme that, m'boy. Ya did 'nough by catching it, now go take a bath while I prep it, yeah?"

Sigurd gratefully handed over the stag and watched his uncle take it into the shed. Sighing at the alleviated burden, he walked into the small house. The walls were simple wooden planks, with a small living room with a couch, rug, a couple of chairs, a table, kitchen, and a television, one of the few in the village. Both the men had their own bedrooms, with a third used for storage, and a bathroom, completing the entire household. He hung up his sword, unstrung his longbow, and turned on the television to a random program, they only had ten channels out there, and set it loud enough to be heard in the bathroom. He picked a change of clothing and walked into the bathroom, turned copper facet open, slowly filling the tub. He flipped on the switch for the highest setting for the heater. The Flame Magicite under the tug soon warmed up the water to near boiling.

When it was half full, he stripped and slowly got in the hot water, letting his muscles finally find some relaxation. The last few weeks had been tiresome; poor harvests over in the Steeple caused the farmers to employe even a wrangler's apprentice like Sigurd. They had gone through poor seasons like this before, even had much worse ones, but each time he had been too young or small to help out. Now, he was nearly a man, one who cared more about his sword practice and magic studies than earning his daily bread shoveling dung in the stables.

Oh well, the Mayor and his council had decided the famine wasn't bad enough to ration the food, or that they wouldn't be able to offer their annual donation to the Wind Shrine.

He let his mind drift as the hot water unknotted his muscles. Within the next few days, the village would elect a few representatives to send their annual offering of food and choices of craft to the Wind Shrine, a two day journey east of the village, just outside the Lauserian Providence. Yamasa was always the caravan's escort, so he would need to get a few lessons in before then. Sigurd had changed these last seven years since taking lesson from the mountain master. He chuckled, remembering their first encounter.

_The six year old Sigurd raced through the village toward the gate, bumping into people constantly and even knocked over a stand with a couple chocobo eggs, ruining Ms. Hanson's dinner, which made him run even faster, lest he get a face-full of dirty broom._

_There, at the gate, he saw what Mitch had told him about: a newcomer. There was a brown chocobo pulling a cart with his stuff right outside the open gate. Unable to contain his excitement, he rushed through the gate and jumped on the railing to the cart, leaning over it to rummage through the open crates._

_Suddenly, a hand grabbed the nape of his shirt, lifted him up and turned him around the face the oldest, ugliest man he had ever seen in his short life. He was mostly bald with only a few tufts of grey hair left and numerous color blemishes. He wore loose blue silk pants and a green silk shirt that went down nearly to his ankles, with slits in the sides to allow freedom of leg movement._

"_What are you doing, child?" He demanded in a harsh tone. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to mess with other people's stuff?"_

"_Why awe you weawing a dwess, mister?" Sigurd asked._

"_Listen," before he could continue, he did a double take, "this is NOT a dress, you little brat, now are you going to apologize or-"_

"_Wow, you're ugly," Sigurd cut him off, "and old! You must be a hundred million bajillioAAAAAHHHH!" His train of speech was cut off as he suddenly found himself skyrocketing upward at breakneck speeds. Nearly thirty seconds later, when he reached the apex of his ascent, he looked down and saw the entire village laid out under him, with humans looking like ants. He screamed the entire way down._

_The split second before he could become a bloodstain on the mountain peaks, the old man caught him with one hand. He had fallen maybe ten feet away from where he was originally thrown upward. "Are you ready to apologize now?" He asked, smugly._

"_DO IT AGAIN! DO IT AGAIN! DO IT AGAIN!" Sigurd started screaming, causing the old man to deadpan._

"_Of all the places I could've retired to…" The old man muttered before unceremoniously dropping Sigurd right there. He then turned and walked into the village, calling to someone, sounding like he was about to complain, just like most old people seemed to do._

_With an oomph, Sigurd got up and ran back to the cart, hoping to find something really cool. He soon found it in the form of a beautifully crafted sword in its sheath. He tried to lift it up, only to find it was too heavy for his young arms, but that didn't stop him from trying._

_During his struggles, he occasionally felt a minor tremor in the ground, but he ignored it, still trying to yank the heavy piece of metal out to play with._

_Suddenly, he heard someone scream his name in pure panic. He turned around, and saw a monster, a T-Rexaur, running along the outside of the village gate right toward him. Panicking, Sigurd let go of the sword, and curled up in a ball, screaming his little head off in terror. He heard and felt the massive monster's feet get closer, and closer, and closer…_

_Then suddenly, it stopped. After a few seconds, curiosity overcame his fear and he looked up. There, hold the monster back, was the old man. He was holding the monster back by grabbing hold of its teeth. Both were struggling to push the other out of the way, and the old man was obviously struggling with the effort. Suddenly, using the leverage on the monster's teeth, he twisted the monster's head sharply, forcing it onto its side._

_Almost faster than Sigurd's eyes could track, he grabbed his sword out of the cart, and rammed it into the monster's skull. After a few convulsions, the T-Rexaur died._

_Pulling his sword out, the old man cleaned it off and walked over to Sigurd. "Ready to apologize yet?"_

_Now that the danger had passed, the young boy's normal personality emerged. "DO IT AGAIN!" He was going to say it several more times, but the next thing he knew, he woke up three days later with a really large lump on his head._

The insular village was usually suspicious of newcomers, but that event earned Yamasa everyone's trust. Sigurd couldn't help but smile at the memory of when his uncle took him to Yamasa, four years later, and asked the retired Wanderer if he could train, and hopefully discipline, the rambunctious ten year old. He would never forget the look of total panic on the old man's ugly face. He never admitted it, but ever since Yamasa saved his life four years before that, Sigurd greatly respected the old man.

"_How are you so strong?" Sigurd asked._

"_Fighting is not all about strength, Sigurd." Yamasa insisted._

"_I'm not asking about fighting, I wanna know how you're so strong."_

_Yamasa kept his tongue in check. "White magic and potions."_

"_Oh, so you're not actually strong, you just use witchcraft?"_

"_No, no, you idiot, it's not magic that makes me strong, it helped make me strong."_

"_That's what I said."_

_A vein popped out on the old man's forehead, visible even through the deep wrinkles. "Okay, little brat, you want a straight answer? Muscles get larger and stronger through exertion by breaking down the muscles into proteins, and as it heals, it reforms stronger than before. In other words, we temporarily lose four parts strength only to gain back five parts. Magic and potions do the healing for us, so we lose one or two parts strength, and gain four or five back. Understand?"_

"_No."_

"_Of course not! You're a brat, and a stupid one at that. The moral of this lesson is: don't ask questions where you wouldn't understand the answer."_

"_You dunno what you're talking about, do you?" The vein on Yamasa's head grew to the width of a man's thumb._

Sigurd chuckled softly at that memory. Occasionally, on the few channels they got out there, he saw some cheesy martial arts movies about the callow student and the grumpy master who begrudgingly takes the student under his wing. He didn't take any pride in how he had the real thing, wishing his master was, at least sometimes, a little more patient with kids. As he got older and more mature (mostly out of necessity due to his master's temper), the old man gradually warmed up to him.

His mind gradually drifted back to Brynhilda. He hoped Master and Madam Frigg treated her well. Wanderers were rare, but they did come, and a few times, they were let into the village only to commit theft before leaving. This lead many villagers to distrust any outsiders.

When he heard Siegfried open the door, he wondered how long he had been in the bathtub. If his uncle was already done gutting, skinning, and hanging up the stag, he must've been more overworked than he thought to zone out like that.

"Oi, Sigurd!" Siegfried called out through the bathroom door. "The mayor asked to talk to me this eve'ning. Could ya do dinner tonight?"

"Sure, no problem." Sigurd called back, letting his head rest against the wall with his eyes closed. Even if he had to fix dinner tonight, the bath completely rejuvenated his sore body. As he got out, drained the water, and dried himself off, he wondered how long Brynhilda would stay in the village.

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That night, Siegfried seemed unusually distant as they ate their dinner of squash, potatoes, and chocobo. Sigurd figured his mind must've been on whatever business he had with the mayor.

The next morning, when he arrived at Yamasa's house, the old man was also unusually quiet, just letting him in and quickly making up some tea for the two of them. Over the years, the two of them had come to develop a sort of routine of conduct. The old man would initiate the first conversation, and unless they were in the middle of a lesson, Sigurd could start any appropriate conversation he wanted. Since Yamasa hadn't said a word since Sigurd arrived, they had their tea in complete silence. Even though the silver haired youth had learned patience over the years and outgrew his obnoxious behavior, the silence was testing him.

Finally, after nearly thirty minutes of nothing, Yamasa spoke. "I'm not going to escort the caravan this time."

That startled Sigurd. "What? But master…no one's better at fighting monsters than you!"

"I'm old, Sig." It was rare that he called his apprentice by his nickname. It meant he was talking to him, not as his student, but as his friend. "The thought of jumping the village walls alone makes me feel my age. I came to this rural village to retire, so I could live in peace and quiet. The problem is I never really retired. I still leave the village walls to hunt or escort people, and my bones are feeling it. I've given this a lot of thought, and decided to fully retire."

"But, but…who's going to escort the caravan for the annual offerings? Or anyone else for that matter?"

A slight smile crossed Yamasa's ragged leather-like face as he leaned across the table and gave Sigurd a light pat on the arm. "You. I believe you're ready for this." Sitting back into his chair, reveling in his students dumbfounded look, he continued, "You've got a long ways to go if you really want to be as good as I was in my youth, but you won't get that good just taking daily lessons with me and occasionally fighting a grat or goblin while hunting. You've grown a lot since you were a boy, but I can tell you're still restless. I think this'll be good for you. Besides, however much you like chocobos, I don't think a life of wrangling will satisfy you."

Sigurd couldn't argue with his master there. "Did you run this by the mayor?"

"I told Gibs yesterday, he didn't have any problem with it. The cunning bastard even found a way to use it to his advantage." He realized this must have involved his uncle. "You know how Gibs is, he just _has_ to be prepared for the worst, and that includes strangers."

Surprise overtook Sigurd as he realized what Yamasa was talking about. "Brynhilda?"

"Yes, I heard that was her name. Our mayor's not paranoid, he just likes to be cautious, and there are enough villagers that truly distrust outsiders that if she stays very long, there could be trouble, and if that trouble finds its way to a Wanderer, especially ones with short tempers, that could cause even more trouble. I've known enough Wanderers to know not to underestimate them just because they're young and female."

"This involves me, doesn't it?" Sigurd asked, the pieces clicking into place. "The mayor wants me to invite her along to the Wind Shrine to get her out of the village. I brought her here, so I should make her leave."

"Essentially yes, but not quite that cynical." Yamasa answered, silently taking pride in his student's insightfulness. "The mayor just figured she would trust you a little more than a complete stranger. Give her the offer, but don't push her into it. He'd rather she left of her own accord rather than alienate her, which might make her stay just to spite us."

"And this involves Uncle Siegfried, too. Gibs wants him to be the wrangler this time, as a means of encouraging me to go along with it."

Yamasa raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You should be mayor someday. That's all of it in a nutshell. The caravan leaves tomorrow morning, so you'll have to decide before then."

Sigurd sighed and leaned back in his chair. He didn't like being manipulated or coerced, though, when he thought about, he knew the mayor was better than that; he was simply doing what he thought was best for the village. On the other hand, the idea excited him. He had only heard stories about the Wind Shrine, he had never actually been there, it would be a rare chance for an adventure, even if it was just a five day trip there and back, and most of it was on the Roads.

He didn't have very good reasons either way, but even Yamasa agreed that sometimes you just had to be a little impulsive. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Not with that piece of blacksmith scrap you have." Yamasa said, nodding toward Sigurd's sword, before getting up and walking into another room. The silver haired wrangler's interest was piqued, and a small, somewhat ridiculous dream came to his mind.

A minute later, the old Wanderer came back into the kitchen with a new sword. Sigurd tried not to show his disappointment that it wasn't Excalibur, Yamasa's most prized possession. Oh well, it was never meant to be.

He handed the heavy weapon to his student, who promptly unsheathed it while his master explained, "This is a backup I usually kept close incase Excalibur wasn't available. It was made by a whitesmith named Murakumo." The hilt was nearly a foot long, covered in wood contoured like a double helix with cutouts in the middle showing the steel tang within, and copper wire wrapped around for added grip. The blade was a milky white, three-and-a-half feet long, wide, thick and sharp. At the base, instead of a hand-guard, the blade widened out and extended below the top of the hilt, protecting the hand. "The smithy called that design Ame-no-Murakumo, or 'Cloud of the Heavens'. I just liked to call it Heaven's Cloud."

"It's beautiful." Sigurd said. The sword was second only to Excalibur in beauty.

"Don't let its beauty deceive you, it may be a looker but it's still mass produced. If you search any place that can be rightfully be called a city, you'll inevitably find a higher quality sword. Its beauty is mostly for driving up the price, but it'll serve you well."

Looking over the sword, and feeling how its hilt design made it easy to grip, he found he could not wait to start the journey tomorrow.

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It took fifteen minutes to get to the Peak Nest Inn from Yamasa's house, during which time, Sigurd considered how he would approach Brynhilda with his offer. The Peak Nest itself had a large floor room, since it was the only Inn in the village it had to handle a lot of guests for diners, drinkers, and parties, but the second level was barely half the size of the first floor, with only a few rooms for the rare visitor or seasonal merchant, a couple of storage rooms, and Madam Frigg's prized baths.

As he entered the mostly-red-brick building, he saw a few members of Council sitting near one of the fireplaces, smoking on pipes while the fumes were pulled up the chimney. Master Frigg was washing the counters, looking for whatever specks of dust he likely didn't miss before, the man was notoriously meticulous. Looking around the room, Sigurd found Byrnhilda at one of the tables, eating from a large platter.

As he got closer, he recognized, with some surprise, that her breakfast was a roasted piglet. He'd had piglet only once, and that was from a single roast that several farmers paid together to share. He never was overly fond of pork, but along with Master Frigg's secret recipe of herbs and spices, that tender meat was some of the best he had ever eaten. Madam Frigg charged a hundred and fifty gil to give up one of her piglets! This Wanderer must have had some money to spare!

He had to stop himself from salivating at the sight. "Miss Wagner?" He said softly.

While ripping off some juicy meat, she turned her head to look at him. She took a few seconds to chew and swallow before replying, "Checking up on me?"

"No…well, that too, but I was curious," he motioned to one of the chairs inquisitively, and she nodded. As he sat down, he continued, "I don't get out of the village much, so I was wondering how ours compared to others."

Taking a few seconds to swallow another mouth full, she considered, "Most places, especially rural villages, charge extra for the baths, and they're not half as good as the ones here." She took another bite before continuing while chewing, "I never much liked chocobo down mattresses or pillows, but these were much more comfortable than most." This slightly surprised Sigurd, as he didn't know there were other kinds of mattresses. "The cooking here is astounding, though. The Friggs must take a lot of pride in their work."

He was about comment that it was their motto when his companion took an unusually large bite, spilling juices down her chin and onto the plate, leaving her unable to chew with her mouth closed. Master Frigg would grimace if he saw that, and Sigurd fought not to do so as well.

He apparently didn't do as well as he had hoped when she saw him looking at her. She repositioned the food in her mouth enough to say, while wagging a haunch at him, in a slightly reprimanding tone, "If you went three weeks of nothing but bread, cheese, and plain stew, you wouldn't hold back either."

"Uh…yeah, I suppose." He stumbled. "Hey, you said you were looking for places you've never been. Ever been to the Wind Shrine?"

The question stopped her chewing for a brief moment, then she resumed, swallowed, and asked, "Are you asking me out?"

"What?! No!" He quickly said, caught off guard. Realizing how flustered that left him, and how it made her snicker, he quickly reorganized himself. "Tomorrow, we were going to make our annual offering of food to the Shrine. We live several hours away from the nearest Road, so we have to be careful of monsters. I've been assigned escort duty for the caravan, so I was wondering, seeing as you are a Wanderer, and have likely dealt with monsters before, you might be willing to help out?"

Her chewing slowed down a little as she mulled over the proposal. "Okay, I'm in. Tomorrow, you said?" He nodded. "I'll see you then."

Sigurd smiled and stood up. "Thank you, Miss Wagner. Or should I call you Brynhilda?"

"Just Hilda." She said before continuing her voracious devouring of her delicacy. As Sigurd was about to exit the building, Hilda called out, "And Sigurd," he stopped in the doorway to hear her, "tell your mayor that I appreciate the polite hospitality, but if he wants me to leave the village, all he has to do is ask."

Sigurd winced. So he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was.

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Author's Note: I WAS going to make this chapter include the first fight sequence, but it turned out to be too long. Oh well. Just so you know, nearly all the characters are based off of classic RPG archetypes in terms of their abilities, usually with a few tweaks. Sigurd, if you haven't figured it out, is a Paladin, but instead of only a few weak spells, he uses defensive spells like Shell and Protect, as well as a few other unique things I thought up. I'll give out a free spoiler of what's to come for anyone who can guess what Hilda is. Here's a hint: it's a mixture of two different classes.

Also, most of the names in this story are either taken from mythology or Final Fantasy, or are clever (for me) names describing the character or organization in some way. Yamasa is Japanese for 'Mountain Master', as far as I can tell, and Akaji could (I think) mean 'dirt old', inspiring the name of his truck.

Finally, this is my first time writing my own world. Any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, and I'll likely need it if I'm to ever get anything original published.


	3. The Wind Shrine

Author's Notes: Well, good news, I'm officially an uncle! Now if only my sister would get it together and throw out the baby's father and find someone who was actually more mature than her two day old son that would be swell.

**Chapter Two: The Wind Shrine**

After going through his usual morning routine, Sigurd chose to take his white chaps and white coat with blue trimmings. They couldn't afford to take spare clothing, and they had to look good when they arrived at the Wind Shrine. His uncle was already up and gone when he woke, finishing the numerous preparations needed before this trip.

Grabbing Heaven's Cloud and putting it to his hip, quiver on his back, bow in hand and a few extra waxed strings in his pocket, he left his house with a strange feeling. He felt the compulsion to turn around and drink in the image of his home; as if this would be the last in a long time he was going to see it, and not just five days.

_Stop being foolish._ Sigurd reprimanded himself. _Just focus on finishing your preparations._

He sprinted across the village to the stables, the largest structure in Twin Peaks at a hundred feet end to end, the barn shaped structure held forty chocobos, from yellow to brown to green to a couple of blues. There, tethered at the far end, was Boko in front of a new wagon. The blacksmith must have just finished it.

Putting his bow in the wagon, Sigurd started harnessing the brown chocobo. Yellows were the most agile chocobos and second only in speed to the blacks, while browns were larger and stronger, much more suited to drafting and farm plowing.

Ten minutes later, he led his uncle's chocobo by the reigns to the Inn, where most of the villagers had gathered, taking their turns presenting their gifts to the Shrine. Hilda was watching the gathering from a few buildings away, leaning up against the structure. Apparently she caught on to how welcome strangers tended to be.

Sigurd stopped in the road and said to her, "I'm sorry if anyone was rude to you."

She looked at him in mild confusion before it hit her. With a laugh, she said, "Rhine, I've been in villages that were a _lot_ more hostile than yours. It doesn't bother me." Looking back at the gathering of villagers with a playful smile on her face, Sigurd could've sworn he heard her murmur something along the lines of 'farm boy'.

For reasons that confused him, he took offense to that statement. Pushing those feelings aside, he parked Boko and the wagon just outside the Inn, and moved through the crowd to help inside.

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An hour later, everyone had presented their offerings, which were then loaded into the wagon. The villagers offered mostly food, but there were a few crafted trinkets among them. Sigurd, Siegfried, and Alden Frigg spent another thirty minutes using crumpled paper to make sure the food and other gifts were secured in place without them being damaged as the wagon bumped around.

It was a few hours before midday when the three humes reached the northern gate. As the sharpened wooden pillars slowly rose, Siegfried started explaining, "It's twenty miles to the Cardinal Road. We should be able to reach it by sundown."

When he got the nod of understanding from Sigurd and Hilda, he jumped on the wagon, grabbed the reins, and gave Boko a light giddy up.

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Three hours later, Sigurd and Hilda fell into an easy routine for protecting the wagon; the Lauserian was more accurate at long range with his bow, so he would shoot monsters from far off, she would shoot it with her pistols if it came within twenty meters of them, and Sigurd would use his sword at close range. The few times he was hurt by the encounters, they found out Hilda was far better with white magic than he was.

They took the northern trail out of the village, heading northeast, the shortest path toward the Road. They could arrive at the Wind Shrine a good six hours faster if they just went straight eastward, but on the Road they would have no fear of monster attacks. The trail slowly wound back and forth down the mountain, allowing the wagon to descend without rocketing down the steep mountainside. They reached the Gultan Basin, crossed the small countryside covered in grassy plains, and were on their way up the easternmost mountain in the Lauserian Mountain Range.

"So what's the Earth Shrine like?" Sigurd called out from his rising. The mountain path they were on was a twenty foot wide, fifteen foot deep rut. Supposedly it helped conceal both the sight _and_ the smell of travelers on the trail. This part of the mountain was anything but even, with rises and dips that could hide any number of things, as well as a forest whose edge followed the trail for miles. The terrain consisted of dirt, grass, and mossy granite, but other than the hills and dips, the land was rather even.

"Boring." Hilda called back from the other side of the trail. "It's kinda cool to look at, but it's a real pain to get to. You ever heard of the Grand Gash?" When she saw him shaking his head, she explained, "It's a series of two hundred or so ravines in the Jorjin Providence. It's like a huge maze that takes days to navigate to reach the Shrine. It's about a thousand feet tall, carved right into the ravine wall, with sculptures of scenes of battles and creatures and the like. It's quite a place, but otherwise boring." She gave a little laugh. "I guess Saint Arte wanted to give a spectacle to whoever manages to find the place."

"You believe the Twelve Saints were real?" Sigurd asked, curious. In Twin Peaks, there were both believers and skeptics, as well as people in between like himself.

"No one disputes that the Warriors of Light are real." Hilda answered.

"What about the spirits and the gods?"

"Very possible." She answered, still scoping their surroundings.

"Even the Great Dragon and the Golden Tiger?" She wasn't looking at him when he asked, but he could still see a look of anger pass over her face. He doubted it was from his questioning, so he figured it must have been a sensitive subject for her.

He didn't press the subject, and waited a few more minutes before asking, "You've been to a couple of the Shrines before, ever wonder if you'll be there when the Warriors of Light arrive?"

She chortled. "Come on, it's only been twenty years since their last incarnation, I doubt something would happen in such a short time to cause the gods to reincarnate their disciples again."

He didn't know much about history, and even less about governments and factions that could draw the attention of the gods, but he could understand her point.

He took a few more steps forward before he felt a small tremor. He stopped instantly, and looked across the rutted path to Hilda. The alert look on her face told him she felt it too. Whatever it was, it must have been big. Sigurd gave his uncle the signal to stop, and saw Hilda putting her ear to the ground. He could feel the footsteps a little better now, and his female scout leapt over across the path and landed like a feather before putting her ear to the ground on Sigurd's side. After a few more light tremors, she stood up and nodded, pointing toward the small forest neighboring the trail.

Sigurd nodded, and stuck his head over the edge of the rut and said, quietly enough so only his uncle could hear him, "We're gonna check up on something. If anything attacks you in the mean time, just scream."

Siegfried gave him a dour look. "I planned to do that anyway."

Pulling out his sword, Sigurd followed Hilda into the woods, following the now audible sounds of the footsteps. Moving from tree to bush to granite crop, they moved through the forest, trying to stay out of sight. After a couple of minutes, they saw what they were chasing. At twenty feet high and thirty feet long, it was shaped somewhat like a mantis, standing on four spear-like legs, a small green thorax, large red abdomen, and a head that looked more like a torso connecting to a head. It had two one-jointed arms with a serrated blade on the inside of each arm. It was currently eating a now unidentifiable animal carcass off the ground with its huge mandibles.

"What's that?" Hilda quietly asked with her back against a tree.

"I think it's a plant spider." Sigurd asked, on his stomach peering through a bush. "Normally they're smaller than a man, but I think there's a recessive gene or something that allows them to grow like that."

"I'd rather not fight it." Hilda said. "I say we turn around and return to your uncle, only fight it if it attacks us."

Sigurd nodded. He started to crawl backwards, when his sheath hit a rock next to a small ledge, knocking it over and onto a small, fallen branch, breaking it with a loud crack. Looking back at the noise he made, he held back a curse, hoping the dire plant spider didn't hear that. He had his answer before he could even look back, as he felt the powerful tremors getting louder very quickly.

He quickly sprang to his feet, and dashed forward, under the spear-like arm that would've impaled him, and swung hard at the monster's leg. The blade barely managed to dig three inches into the foot wide leg. _What the hell is this thing's exoskeleton made of?_ He tried to pull his sword out, only to find it stuck.

Suddenly, the monster started turning. Out of pure reflex, Sigurd kicked the plant spider's leg, pushing himself away violently, pulling his sword out in the process. Then he looked up and saw he was half a second away from the monster thrusting its arm through his chest, when suddenly there was a bang, and a spark flew off the thing's head, stunning it for a second. Sigurd took the opportunity to jump back and put some distance between him and the monster.

The plant spider turned its head to see Hilda put her pistol back in its holster, and slap her palms together. Suddenly, dozens of thorny vines blasted out of the ground under the monster, wrapping around its legs and body. She said she was as good with geomancy as she was with white magic, and he wondered if she was ever going to use it on this trip.

Sigurd took advantage of the situation and leapt at the monster's head. He thought he heard Hilda yell something, but the thought was gone as soon as he realized the monster still had control of its upper body, which promptly swatted him away with its arm.

He wasn't aware of how far he flew, probably fifty feet, before hitting a tree, and falling twenty feet onto a large slab of granite. Pain raced through his body as he tried to get back onto his feet, finding he could only move slowly due to a couple broken ribs and a concussion.

Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder, and he felt the familiar warmth of healing magic race through his body, healing the broken bones and taking away the soreness. With the pain gone, he looked up and saw, behind Hilda, the monster was just breaking through its bonds and looked at the two of them like any predator would.

Sigurd took a step back to run, but Hilda grabbed his arm to hold him still. "Wait a second." She demanded. She slapped her palms together, and then the stone under their feet started to shift, as if it were molten, and climbed up their legs to make crude breast plates for the two of them.

Even though the process only took a few seconds, Sigurd had to force himself to stay put as the plant spider was gaining on them very fast. The instant the granite armor stopped, they both jumped out of the way as the monster spit a large glob of acid at them, burning the floor they stood on a moment earlier.

The monster turned and charged toward Sigurd. This time, however, he stood his ground as against the charge. At the last second, he formed a _Protect_ spell in front of him, a five foot wide barrier of blue hexagons. The slight curve of the spell caused the stab attack to deflect to the side and into the ground.

With its arm momentarily out of the way, Sigurd launched himself at the monster's head, only to find the monster's torso quickly lean to one side, and violently swing toward the other, knocking him out of the air. He fell twenty feet away, and due to the extra weight of the granite armor, he had difficulty getting up quickly. Hilda was by his side in a moment, and was firing both of her pistols at its head, doing little more than annoying it due to its natural armor.

The plant spider seemed to finally have enough of Hilda shooting it, and charged at them again. Sigurd took a chance then and jumped at it, using both his and the monster's momentum to cut one of the plant spider's legs off. He had to jump back almost immediately as the large monster nearly crushed him with its bulk as it lost balance.

The two teenagers turned around and ran for it. Sigurd considered for a second asking Hilda to take the armor off of him so he could run faster, but quickly pushed aside that thought. He didn't have any kind of armor under it anyways; back at Twin Peaks, anything he couldn't handle without armor he just ran from.

"We'd better get back to the wagon." Sigurd said.

"What?" Hilda asked, incredulous. "No, we would be leading the monster right to the thing we're trying to protect! We have to deal with it or get it off our tails." She shook her head, trying to think. "My bullets aren't getting through, so it'll have to be your sword attacking a vital spot on it."

"It's too agile, I can't get close to it!" Sigurd stated. He really wished Yamasa was with them.

Something seemed to click in Hilda's mind right then. "Hey, wasn't there a lake nearby?"

Sigurd searched his memory. "Yeah, about a mile back down the trail," he was going to ask why she wanted to know, but didn't get the chance to as she turned and ran off toward the lake. It took them three minutes to make it, and when they got there, there was only a hundred feet or so between them and the stampeding, though hobbling plant spider.

Hilda quickly ran onto the lake, running across the water as if it were solid ground, and stopped twenty feet into it. She waited several seconds for the monster to get close, and then slapped her hands together. The entire area seemed to shift and change, as if reality had become a runny oil painting. The monster started shifting from side to side, off balance and dazed.

"Now, Sigurd!" Hilda yelled. "Finish it off!"

Not asking any questions, the silver haired youth leapt into the air, barely able to clear the twenty foot height of the monster's head, and using all his strength plunged his sword into its skull. Holding onto the hilt, he was swung around several times as the monster fought him off, suddenly out of its daze, before it fell onto the ground, dead.

Hilda walked back onto solid ground, panting, while he struggled to pull his sword out of the thing's skull. She pulled a book out of the satchel at her waist, and a small poaching kit, with shears, saws, scalpels and a hunting knife with skinning edge. She started flipping through the book as her male companion finally managed to free Heaven's Cloud.

"What's that?" Sigurd asked while wiping the blade off on the grass.

"Poacher's guide." She explained. "Wanderers who don't have them are those who don't want to make a profit on the monsters they kill." After flipping through several pages, she stopped and read on. "Apparently, plant spiders' livers are great for alchemical uses." She took the saw out from the kit, and plunged the sharp tipped tool into the monster's side. "This may take a while, so you might want to get back to your uncle. I'll meet up with you later."

A little tired from the ordeal, Sigurd nodded and jogged back to the trail to meet up with his uncle.

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Six hours later, the sun was only minutes away from the horizon, leaving the skies and clouds awash with crimson and rouge. Siegfried assured his two younger escorts they weren't far from the Cardinal Road. The dirt and rock path had a rise in it that forced Sigurd and Hilda to push on the wagon to help Boko pull it over. Once they were on top, they saw they had reached their destination.

On the other side of the rising, a hundred feet away laid the Road, a relic dating back to just after the collapse of the Dark Epoch. Two hundred feet wide of blue and black stone, its length stretching off into the horizons, it had been called by experts to be the greatest contribution to human civilization since the collapse of the Dark Epoch itself. On its edges, every three hundred feet, rose a tower as wide as two men abreast, a hundred feet high with hovering halo rings about their tops. The Saint Bestia built the Roads across all of Terra, while his brother Madator tamed all the fell beasts of the world, and together, forced them into a hereditary pact that forbids them from stepping foot onto the Roads, thus turning those animals into the progenitors of the monsters. All civilizations since have built themselves around the Roads.

When the three humes and one chocobo crossed the threshold onto the Road's edge, they passed from chilled evening air into warm air. Sigurd's head shot up at the sudden change in climate, and looked around in wonderment. After running out to the middle of the road, he knelt and felt the blue marble inlaid with obsidian lines to create circles and trigrams as small as a hand to as large as the Road was wide. It was all as smooth as glass. Feeling it all, Sigurd knew any who were skeptical of the Twelve Saints had never been on a Road, never felt its surface. If they had, they would've known no hume hand could've crafted it.

"Oi, Sigurd!" His uncle called out to him. "You can gawk all ya wan' after ya help me set up camp."

Scratching the back of his head in embarrassment over his wide-eyed display, he quickly started helping his uncle get the tents and blow-up mattresses out of the wagon to set up. He heard Hilda muttering under her breath, something about 'what a child' and 'chocobo boy'. When they were done, they had a small fire going, one they planned to clean up in the morning, cooking their stew.

"We made some goo' time today, kids." Siegfried said. "W'should make it to the Wind Shrine before even'en tomorrow."

"Are there a lot of airships at the Wind Shrine?" Hilda asked, tiredly. "I've been traveling on foot enough lately."

"Yeah, they gots trad'r ships, transport types, some f'r supplies, ports f'r refueling those passing by." Siegfried explained. "Y'probably heard th' Wind Shrine's th' only non-terrestrial based Airship dock in th' world."

"Yeah, that's what I heard, and I know it's not true." She said, lazily staring into the fire. "Aquta's got one too, though not nearly as large from what I've heard."

Sigurd thought he had heard the name Aquta before, though he couldn't quite remember what they were. He wanted to ask Hilda about airships, but he didn't want to act any more callow than he already made himself look. When they retreated into their tents, Sigurd's thoughts were filled with dreams of what he would find the next day. He had seen pictures of some of the Shrines and airships on the television back home, but he had the feeling the real thing wouldn't match up to the two dimensional images.

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Travel across the Cardinal Road was uneventful. The conversations were few and far between, with the only excitement being the occasional monster outside the Road's barrier, barking or clawing at the invisible wall protecting their prey only yards outside their grasp, Sigurd found himself staring out at the fields as they passed.

The hills in the field where they first got on the Road gradually became larger, turning into small mountains, covered with granite or grass. Around mid-day, they were in a new mountain range, and the Road rose up into a bridge suspended by giant blue arches, allowing for lesser grades to scale while moving from mountain to mountain. Off to the east, where they were heading, lay dark cumulonimbus's dancing above, around, and through the mountains, obscuring anything that might lie within that range. Clouds that big couldn't possibly move and shift that fast.

"Easy, m'boy." Siegfried said, apparently sensing his nephew's apprehension. "Tha's just the Wind Shrine. We'll be fine."

Sigurd nodded, relaxing a little. This would be his uncle's third trip to the Wind Shrine, so he trusted the older man's words. As the hours ticked by, the trio came closer and closer to the raging storm. Soon, the winds started to pick up, pressing on them as if it wished to throw them off the road. The wagon rocked frequently, and a few times the wheels on one side came a few inches off the Road, but it held steady.

Eventually, the road pressed against and curved around the side of the mountain. Soon after, the three humes and their chocobo walked into the twisting wall that was the cloud engulfing the mountain. Moisture instantly made their clothes cling to their skins, and the howling wind soon left their hair dripping wet. Water started to sprinkle off of Boko as the water streamed across his feathers, and Hilda and Sigurd made sure to hold the tarp flaps on the wagon to keep the gifts and food from getting sodden. As the caravan continued into the dark cloud, their visibility cut to twenty feet, the wind continued to howl.

After nearly an hour, the winds started to die down. The blinding mists around them eventually thinned out, and they walked out of a threshold into clear air, and saw the Wind Temple in the distance. It laid in the middle of a crater a mile wide, with four Roads leading straight to it in the form of suspension bridges. At the edges of the crater along side the Roads lay small towns; Inns and traders mostly, from what he had heard. All this, however, paled before the structure it was all built around.

Sigurd had heard the stories, heard the figured and seen illustrations, but those didn't do justice for the sheer magnitude of what he saw before him. Nearly two thousand feet wide, and rising three miles into the sky, the Elemental Shrine, made by the hands of Saint Giralda, was made out of white marble cut to a shimmering sheen. Every few hundred feet up the structure there would be an open air level; no walls or windows, simply a railing to show off the surrounding landscapes unobstructed. Tubes, barely perceivable at that distance, ran up the sides of the shrine, carting people and small vehicles to the various floors. There were five levels spaced evenly up the structure that were made to be airship docks. Flying transports of every shape and size flew in and out of the massive openings and into the shrine itself. Finally, at the top was the thousand foot wide, octagon-paneled sphere that housed the Deified Path, which lead directly to the Wind Crystal. It was there, after passing the trails in the Path that the Warriors of Light would receive one of their four blessings on their pilgrimage; after which they would fulfill whatever tasks the Gods imposed on them. It was some twenty years ago that the Warriors last visited the Shrines, and nearly two hundred years the time before that.

Sigurd had been staring at the Shrine with such focus that he didn't realize they had made it into the border town until the wagon stopped and his uncle started talking to the green-and-blue armored Customs Officer in charge. The young man knew about the process that had to take place before going into the Shrine proper. Since they were offering gifts and food, they would each get a night at the Inn on that Road free of charge, and be let into the Shrine once their entire luggage passed the inspection.

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Two hours later, Sigurd, Hilda, and Siegfried walked out of the Inn, freshly bathed and their clothed dried, after getting word the inspection was finished. After the last of the paper work was finished, the three humes along with their chocobo marched across the bridge to the Temple. It took nearly fifteen minutes to reach it, but when they did, they walked through an entryway a hundred feet wide into a lobby. There were over a dozen other caravans in the expansive room, with hawkers and peddlers aligning the white marble walls, their goods out on blankets or simple tables. There were several fountains around the room, all with water tornados coming out of them, which deposited into suspended tubs near the ceiling which decanted the water via an intricate series of small aqueducts that spiraled and swirled around each other until finally either emptying directly into the fountain, or converging together to create a waterfall back into a fountain.

Sigurd started to feel uncomfortable. The ceiling was almost perfectly arched a hundred feet over his head, but the thought of all that material, all those people directly above his head made him feel like he was in danger. He tried to calm himself, telling him it was only his nerves. Twenty minutes later, his uncle finished talking the details with one of the priests, and as the bald man in thick robes started to take Boko by the reigns, Siegfried walked over to his nephew and Hilda.

He nodded to his female escort first. "Thank you, Brynhilda, for your help. It is very much appreciated." He then turned to the silver haired swordsman. "Sig, it'll take some time to unload everything, and the priests prefer to do that themselves, so why don't you look around the Shrine. Just be back at the Inn before dark."

Sigurd nodded. "Okay. I'll see you later." He left and walked over to the nearest priest, and found Hilda following him. "Excuse me, your grace?" He waited until the green-and-blue robed, bald priest turned to greet him. "How do I get to the nearest airship dock?" He saw his companion wince next to him, and wondered why.

After the priest gave a long list of directions that Sigurd was sure he would need to be reminded of, the polite priest turned to Hilda, asking what services she required of him. "I'm just gonna make sure he doesn't get lost on the way there." She answered, with a mildly curt tone.

_What's bothering her?_ He wondered. _If she was going to the airship dock too, what difference would it make if I went along with? Am I annoying or something?_

They followed the priest's directions and stepped into the nearest elevator. The round marble disk was inlaid with lines made of emerald, and as they stepped into the middle of it, the opening in the glass tube shifted and formed a solid wall, locking them in. A moment later, Sigurd felt his ears pop as air was suddenly sucked upwards, and the dais they stood on began raising; slowly at first, but gradually going faster and faster.

After a few more similar elevators, they arrived on a walkway lining a wall in the airship dock. Past the various walkways there stood a systematic labyrinth of scaffolding where the airships could dock and catwalks to get to them. Behind the walls were shops and other establishments of every kind, from bars and pubs to repair shops to restaurants to merchandise stores to entertainment clubs of every flavor.

This time, Hilda took the lead and walked through a series of stairs to a large commons area where there people could sit and relax. There was a small crowd over at one end, which Hilda ignored and quickly went to a large billboard with various 'help wanted' ads.

"What's that?" Sigurd asked, motioning toward the gathering, which was focusing on a man in black and silver robes.

Hilda took another glance at them and returned her eyes to the board while explaining, "That man's wearing the robes of the Aquta priesthood. They're a religious group. They believe that instead of just two Celestial Guardians, there are also the Omniscient Will, the Celestial Incarnation of Righteousness, and the Dark Cloud, the Celestial Incarnation of Evil. I believe their prophet's name was Zoroaster."

Sigurd was surprised by this. The idea of more than two Celestial Guardians was about as absurd as one could get. There was the Great Dragon, the Celestial Incarnation of Creation and Order, and its counterpart: the Golden Tiger, the Celestial Incarnation of Change and Chaos, and nothing else equal to them. "How do they explain why the Twelve Saints never mentioned those two?"

Hilda shrugged, not taking her eyes from the board. "I believe the best excuse I've heard was that the Saints were disciples of the Gods, and the Celestial Guardians are above the Gods, so it was possible they were told only of the Golden Tiger and the Great Dragon. Anyways, they believe there will be a day when all the forces of light and darkness will fight, and that the Dark Cloud will eventually be destroyed, and with the source of all evil extinguished, all life will live in bliss, or something like that. They preach a lot about fighting your inner evil and such, and they've got more money than most nations. There's occasionally some talk about them trying to get a little too much influence over some government or another." Hilda stopped there, apparently finding something on the board to catch her interest.

Curious what the man was preaching about, Sigurd crossed the grated floor to the small crowd listening to the man. He arrived to hear what was, apparently, the end of a story. "And Romulus cast his sword at Ramos, shouting, 'O Ramos, if there be any forgiveness in your heart, you will strike me down and end my suffering!'

"Picking up the sword, Remos thus spoke, 'Your death would not be merciful, t'would be cowardly. Stand and face your sins, traitor. My killing you would free you of your responsibility, and there would be no redemption. No, live and let your shame and guilt shield you from evil evermore; live and melt your sword, and from the scrap make plates to feed those you've left starving, live and let your war-forged body erect homes for those you left uncovered."

The sermon went on for a while, speaking of how no one was beyond redemption, and that death was never the answer. Thirty minutes later, Sigurd looked over and saw Hilda briskly walking across a catwalk toward a ramp leading to a large airship shaped like a boat with propellers. Realizing he hadn't said good-bye and thanks to her, he ran after her.

A minute later, he found himself in a large room filled with hundreds of crates. After a few minutes of searching, he called out, "Hilda?" He thought he heard a soft curse, and followed the sound. Behind a crate, Sigurd found Hilda sitting with her back against a wall, and a scowl that would make a rock back up in fear formed on her face at the sight of him.

"What are you doing in here?" She demanded.

"I just wanted to say-" He was cut off when he heard the large door to the cargo department close with a loud clang.

Hilda muttered several obscenities. "Great job, farm boy, looks like we're both stowaways now."

"W-what!" Sigurd shouted. He had though it was a little weird how fast she got a job, but it never crossed his mind how no one was around to see people going in or out of the airship, or that she would try and smuggle herself aboard.

"Official passage is expensive, and money is hard to come by for Wanderers." She curtly explained. "Now don't blame me if I don't walk up to them and say, 'hey, could you turn around and let a friend of mine off; oh me? I'm a stowaway, please don't _arrest me!_'" The last part was a shout.

"Y-yeah, but stowing away-" Sigurd fumbled with his words before Hilda interrupted him.

"Don't you _dare_ talk to me about my way of life!" She yelled. "I don't need to justify myself to some farm boy from a safe, comfy village just like I don't need to justify to a king about being cheap!"

_What the hell is her problem?_ Sigurd thought with anger in kind. "Well excuse me for being fallible!" He pulled off his quiver, unstrung his bow, and put Heaven's Cloud in his lap as he sat down across from her, trying to match her infuriated gaze with his own. It was going to be a long trip.

End of Chapter Two.

Author's Notes: Well, I still don't have a job. Oh well, if only I was being paid for this story. Well, now that we've got a little action out of the way, I might as well state, now, that Sigurd's Paladin job the traditional Paladin, and Hilda is a White Mage/Geomancer. I'll bet no one figured she was a Gemancer, did ya? Every time a new ability is introduced, I'll make a section at the end of the chapter explaining it in case it needs to be explained more.

**Protect**: White Magic Spell. The normal spell you find in any Final Fantasy, but instead of taking away the power behind strikes, it completely stops them, and can cover a wide area, as long as the user has the magic power to repel the attack. Every moment it's up it sucks magic out of the user, so it can't stay active for more than a few seconds at most, and that's across an entire fight, so usually they're only up for a split second. The amount of force it's able to stop depends on the user's magic power and skill.

**Tumbleweed**: Geomancy Spell. In forest areas, a geomancer can use this spell to cause vines to shoot up and ensnare an enemy. The amount of magic put into the spell affects how strong or large the vines are, thus how well it immobilized them.

**Mirage**: Geomancy Spell. When elemental components of water, earth, and forest are nearby, one can cause a powerful sensory overload in a target that can cause severe dementia (read: confuse) in lesser minded monsters or less focused sentient beings.

Also, each Saint's name is Spanish and has something to do with his or her deeds. I've heard Giralda means Baron of the Winds. If anyone can confirm this, I'd appreciate it. Also, Aquta is an interesting name I came up with (and in my personal, biased opinion, a rather brilliant play on words). It's a combination of Aquinas, (a Christian philosopher) and Laputa (not the Spanish word, the floating island in _Gulliver's Travels_ by Jonathan Swift, which was likely inspired by the Spanish word). If you dissect the word as Aku and Uta, you'd find it has an interesting meaning in Japanese.

Also, the idea of traveling outside the Roads and exploring the wilderness was heavily inspired by those "how to survive the wild" shows. The Lauserian mountain range was inspired by certain parts of New Zealand.

And last but not least (well, probably least), the Earth Shrine that Hilda described is based off that one ruin at the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. That was a real historical ruin, but I can't find out what the place is called.


	4. The Offer

Author's Note: Holy crap

Author's Note: Holy crap! I got three reviews for CotN in only five hours! That's gotta be a record for me.

**Chapter Three: The Offer**

Hilda continued to glare at Sigurd well into the morning. The fact that the trip was overnight didn't help her mood. Why the hell did he have to follow her? She couldn't stand rural types; they were always so damn stupid! Of course she got stuck with a hick who didn't know a thing about the world beyond his own farm. This was what she got for accepting the help of others. Those days as a little girl, out in the wilderness all alone, she survived on her own without anyone's help, and she could continue relying only on herself for the rest of her life.

Never would she have imagined her freedom could have been jeopardized by some idiot farm boy.

At least a farm boy knew how to shut up throughout a trip, something she was very grateful for. It took a long time, way too long, for the airship to descend, and the familiar bump and rock of docking. Wordlessly, she got up and walked to the storage dock. As soon as the wooden plank door started lifting, she stepped next to it, bent over, and peeped through under the door. There were two men in uniforms, both with clipboards in hand.

"Damn it!" She hissed. "I was hoping to get out before the uniforms showed up."

Sigurd took a quick peek like she did, and quickly started ruffling his hair, pulled a couple strands out of his ponytail, and rubbed his eyes hard. When he was done, the unkempt hair and red eyes made him look like an overworked laborer. When the door was all the way open, he walked out, with a heavy footed saunter. He even moved like he was tired and overworked.

_Idiot,_ she thought, _what are you trying to pull?_ She followed him, fully expecting him to dig himself into a rut by trying to convince these port authority bureaucrats he was a part of the crew.

When they caught sight of him, the guy smiled politely. _A new guy._ Hilda figured.

"Welcome to the Port of Jericho, sir. I'll need your name and-"

"Where's the nearest watering hole." Sigurd snapped out so suddenly, not only did the official jump, but Hilda nearly did as well.

The poor official, heavily taken aback by the sudden demand, stammered trying to answer, "Uh, well, it's uh, we, we have the, there's the Ahriman & Coeurl Tavern, d-down the street out the m-main entrance, forth, no, fifth on the l-left." At that point, Sigurd passed him without looking at him.

_Okay, maybe he's not such an idiot._ She thought. As soon as the two surprised officials turned their eyes to her, she gave them her strongest _don't-you-dare-bother-me_ glare. It worked like a charm, and they moved clear out of her way.

Okay, so maybe not everything that could have gone bad did.

"You think they're looking for an Inn together?" One of the officials asked the other, which she barely overheard and nearly tripped because of it.

The two humes continued through the catwalks into the interior of the airship dock. This particular dock was on the water, with the upper levels dedicated to those who couldn't land on water or on land. As soon as they left the front entrance, they got a look at the city itself. The city spanned a few miles each way, with buildings that rarely rose higher than fifty feet of sand-gold and white colors that reflected the sun all too well for most eyes.

There weren't many people in this part of the city, so the two of them were almost entirely alone. "So what now?" Sigurd asked.

"What now?" She snapped back. "Now, the two of us part ways, and hopefully, for both of our sakes, never see each other again." She turned and marched away from him. _Let the farm hick fend for himself._ She thought angrily. Like hell she was going to help him after he nearly got her arrested.

"Hey, you can't just leave me here to fend for myself!" He shouted back.

"Watch me." She replied without turning her head to say it.

"Don't you have a heart?"

"Get bent!" _Give me a reason. Just give me a reason._

She heard his footsteps stop shortly before he said, "This is all your fault!"

That was the last straw. She turned, pointed a pistol and fired. Almost instantly, his sword flew out of its sheath and deflected the bullet. She fired twice more, this time at his legs, and he barely managed to deflect them. "You think you can keep that up?" She taunted, cocking her gun.

He just held his sword in a guard stance, looking at her with a glare that, if she weren't so angry right then, she would have been proud of. Nearly a full minute passed by with neither of them moving. She didn't know what he was thinking, but she was mulling over what he said. She had done a lot of things as a Wanderer to survive, some of which she wasn't proud of, but one thing she didn't want to think of herself as was heartless.

She sighed, and reluctantly put her gun away. "Alright, I'll help you find a way back to Twin Peaks, but that's it!" She crossed her arms and looked at the city. "First thing we need is money, so I guess poaching is our best bet. We'll have to go to the Office of Commerce to find out what sells good around…why are you looking at me like that?" He quickly wiped the smirk off his face and turned his face to look at the city with horribly fake nonchalance.

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Half an hour later, the two teenagers found the Office of Commerce, at the farthest point in the city away from where they started no less, and were looking at the various lists of parts from the local flora and fauna poachers could collect, and quickly found themselves shocked at what they saw. Nearly everything in the lists sold in the single digits. Hilda explained to Sigurd how supply and demand changed prices almost constantly, which Sigurd barely understood. She said she had gotten through tough prices like that before, but he could tell she was also annoyed. It would take them at least an hour of productive poaching just to pay for a night at the Inn for each of them.

While there, she showed him a map of the continent they were on, and showed their location, the southern part of the Verniccio Providence. Sigurd hung his head as he saw they were nearly on the far side of the continent from Lauseria. North of them were the Candage and Moscroix providences, west of them was the Jorjin Providence, with the Grand Gash clearly shown taking up most of the space, and Beluosus, the oldest nation on Terra, to the northwest.

She did, however, manage to get nearly a thousand gil off of the liver she kept from the trip to the Cardinal Road. Afterwards, the two made their way to the gate leading out of the city. Sigurd had to work to keep the smirk off his face as Hilda explained various things about surviving out in the steppes. He couldn't help but feel giddy that he was doing what Wanderers did, an admittedly silly childhood dream his. He told himself over and over, sometimes at the expense of not paying attention to Hilda's lecture, that he was just doing this to get back home, but he couldn't stop a few daydreams of exploring old ruins or taking down a rare mark or something else that Wanderers were famous for in the tales.

He was violently drawn out of his own inner world when a pistol fired into the air only a few inches from his ear. "Oww, damn it!" He yelled, holding his throbbing and ringing ear.

"Ready to listen now?" She asked, sarcastic and annoyed. "Good! Now how much gil do you have?"

He reached into his satchel and pulled out his coin purse. After counting the different coins, he answered, "Two hundred and thirteen."

She sighed, holding the bridge of her nose. "Fine, I'll pay for the rest."

"Rest of what?" Sigurd asked.

"Your armor. I'm no good in the heavy stuff, but this," she indicated her thick yellow and black stripped jacket, "has some Kevlar in it, so it can work as light armor. Going without armor like we did on the trip to the Wind Shrine was best done with light armor or without any, but for short range excursions, like the kind we just might eventually go on if you'll listen to me, going with heavier stuff is safer." Without saying anything else, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to a nearby armory.

Twenty minutes later, Sigurd walked out with thin chain mail over his linen shirt and under his white jerkin, had some overlapping plates strapped to the outside of his thighs, and an overlapping steel plate gauntlet running from his left hand all the way to his shoulder. He was shocked at how much it had cost, but Hilda assured him it was worth every penny, as he couldn't pay her back if he died on her. He made some joke about her caring for him, to which he got a glare from her that made his blood turn cold. Soon after, the two of them left the confines of the city walls to hunt for wolf pelts and treant bark.

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Four hours later, the two of them walked back into the city, managing to only make a few hundred gil worth of spoils in that time. As they sold the stuff off to the collections shop, Sigurd asked, tired from being held down by the armor, "Hilda, you think this city has a telecom crystal?"

"I can't see a city this size _not_ having at least a couple of public ones." She then looked at him in mild concern. Her dark chocolate bangs were slightly matted to her forehead from sweat, though he was much worse off. "You want to send a message to your uncle, don't you?" He nodded. "Okay, let's do that before we check in for the night." She said, somewhat reluctantly. The hunting of monsters was bad enough, but lecturing him on the ins and outs of surviving monsters and killing them so as to not tarnish whatever spoils they had was exhausting in its own right.

The telecom crystal tower was easy enough to find, they were almost universal in design: rising a minimum of a hundred feet above the tallest nearby building, a long, thin viridian shaft rising from a teardrop shaped building. A golden orange magicite crystal lay atop its peak, occasionally sending short-lived beams out in various directions. Inside, the duo waited an excruciating hour before they got their turn to talk to the operator, who, while looking horribly overworked with dark bags under her twenty-something eyes, connected them to one of the operators at the Wind Shrine.

"Thank you for choosing Terran Transcontinental Communications, how can TTC help you today?" Unlike the operator on their end, this one was cheerful and crisp.

"I'd like to send a message to Siegfried Rhine in the Dark Tempest Lodge." Sigurd explained.

The young woman on the screen looked away briefly to register the information on her computer. "That's at the southern base of the Shrine, sir. You understand there will be an additional charge for a non-local delivery?"

"Non-local? Its only twenty minutes more on foot!" Hilda shouted. She was, after all, paying for this.

The operator winced. "I'm sorry, I'm just doing my job. A message of less than a hundred words will cost six hundred and seventy five gil. Any message over a hundred words will be charged an extra three gil per word."

Hilda gritted her teeth as she shelled out over half the gil she made on that liver to the operator on their end. "You owe me big time for this, farm boy." She hissed.

As soon as confirmation of the transaction reached her, the energetic pixie of an operator continued, "Thank you again for using TTC for your long distance communication needs. Just type in the message you want and we'll discreetly deliver it while protecting your privacy."

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_Dear Uncle Siegfried,_

_I'm not at the Wind Shrine, I'm somewhere else on accident, but I can't reveal much more than that, I'm sorry. I'll try and get back home as soon as I can, so don't try to look for me, I can make it back on my own. Don't worry, I'll be fine._

_Sincerely, Sigurd._

It was a short and pithy message, but he figured it would have to do. If he tried to include anything else, he might go over the hundred word count and invoke Hilda's wrath.

He laid on his bed at the Inn, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all that had happened. Just a few days earlier, he was staring at the chocobo feather thatched ceiling of his small house, on a chocobo down mattress and pillow. He had lit a candle instead of using the lamp, as Hilda was sleeping on the bed next to his and he didn't want to put her in any worse a mood than she was when she went to sleep. The candle's dancing flame lit a dazzling chorus across the ceiling, slowly lulling him to sleep.

He was sore, tired, and a little bruised, but he was excited. Farming was so boring, so tedious, and the few time he got to ride a chocobo as a wrangler didn't make up for the noise, smell, and messes they left behind. Out here, it was survive by any means or die trying. He had no idea what they were going to do the tomorrow, but he couldn't wait to find out. It felt like Winter Tide's Eve, the night before the days started getting longer again and winter faded, when he would get excited about the parties, the dancing, the bonfires, the gift exchanging.

By the time he started to succumb to sleep, he wondered just how much he really wanted to return home.

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Balder lifted the tankard to his lips, and took a quick swig. Where was he? He knew all too well the effects of extenuating circumstances, but he expected more out of his subordinates, especially informants. He didn't want to spend the money to stay at the Inn longer than he needed to be. The Azure Loft was one of the most expensive hostels in Jericho, but he didn't want to be around casual Wanderers too much.

His keen ears picked up the sound of the Inn door opening, and out of the corner of his eye, saw the man he was waiting for walk in. Punctual or not, the man was good. Even Balder's trained eye didn't detect anything out of the ordinary as the man did a casual scan of the room, and didn't even seem to see his superior in the room.

A few minutes went by as the man got a pint of mead, and eventually, casually sat at Balder's table. "Wait long?" He asked.

"No, thanks entirely to the beer." He answered, his indication that the informant was late.

"Sorry, but the misses had a few words for me." The informant, Hasheck, explained.

Balder nodded. He remembered, now, that the man was indeed married and living in the city. He felt it was one of the better decisions on his part to let agents keep their families close. "So, did you find him?"

"He's in Kaigoumon." Hasheck answered before taking a swig of his mead. "At least that's what I heard. I can't be certain he's still there. I'm told he was looking for a cheap hostel."

Balder nodded. That meant he was either short on money or looking to stay a while. Knowing him, it was likely the latter. "Thanks." As Hasheck started to leave, Balder started pondering his next move. Kaigoumon wasn't far distance wise, but the Stellar Jay Road took a circuitous route around Mount Assarn and the Vernicchi Steppe. Though the city was merely an hour away by airship, it wasn't worth it. Even though Jericho's airship services were the most expensive in the Verniccio Providence, due to the city's commerce being almost exclusively sea trade and travel, the danger of being recognized was far greater than the cost. He and the other higher-ups avoided airships and other official means of travel as much as possible.

Ergo, he would have to travel to Kaigoumon on foot, through the Steppe. The monsters of the region weren't especially dangerous, but it would be best if he had assistance. Maybe he could convince some Wanderers to escort him.

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Sigurd quietly cursed. He had torn the rat's pelt _again_! He started muttering how the rat was a direct descendent of the root of all evil, how it was the great rival of the Malboros as the worst smelling creature and how the vermin's stool repopulated the Flan lineage. He then heard Hilda snickering. "What's so funny?" He demanded, turning his head to look at her.

"You can be awfully creative when you're angry." She answered, trying to hide her smirk.

The silver haired Lauserian sighed as he went back to skinning the little bastard. Hilda did it so quickly, and he hated being so far behind her when it was his turn to poach their quarry. At least they weren't out in the Steppe anymore. He wasn't sure how much more of that scalding humidity he could take. Despite the fact that they were shin-deep in waste water in the Jericho sewers, exterminating monsters and vermin for the City Council, the cool, damp air was refreshing; even the smell was worth it.

It was hard to tell from the surface with all the buildings, but the city was on a hill lowering to the ocean, and as such the waterways of the sewer system in the northern region were quite large, with thirty foot wide tunnels, hundred foot wide sluice chambers, and a strong lighting system that kept all but the deepest nooks and crannies illuminated. The walls were made of ruddy bricks, and the floor was stone brick.

Bagging the tattered remains of the rat's hide, Sigurd flung the bag over his shoulder, and continued down the half-pipe tunnel, and the two ended up in a large chamber, the water under their feet ending in a fifty foot waterfall next to a large platform. There were several other platforms in the massive room, all at different heights, all connected by narrow stairways.

Walking over to the railing, Sigurd could see the sewage water being drained and redirected in the pools below. He couldn't see any monsters, though. "I don't see anything in here. I think we should move on."

"What's this?" He heard Hilda ask. He turned and saw her kneeling near a white glob on the floor. When he knelt next to her and looked closely, the stuff was covered in tiny bubbles.

After a few seconds, the two of them recognized it: slobber.

Without thinking, the two of them looked up, and they saw it. A fat, ten foot long lizard, with a fifteen foot tail, covered in green scales, holding onto the ceiling with long fingered claws, two thick gnarled horns coming out of the back of its head, staring at them through two red eyes.

The two humes jumped back as the lizard let go of the ceiling, glaring and snarling at them, showing rows of jagged, razor sharp teeth in its massive maw. They hadn't been told about anything this big living in the sewers.

"I hope you have some good Geomancy spells available." Sigurd said, holding his sword in front of him, ready to stab at any advancing attack.

"If we were near the water, I could use Whirlpool, or maybe even Rot, but not up here." She answered, pulling her pistols out of their holsters.

Muttering a curse, Sigurd leapt forward, trying to slash the monster's face. The lizard proved its agility by spinning on its back legs so its face was out of the way of the strike while hitting the silver haired Paladin in the face with its thick tail an instant later.

The counter attack left Sigurd stumbling to his side, blocking Hilda's aim. Groaning, Hilda was about to jump to one side so she would have a clear shot when suddenly the monster jumped over Sigurd, rebounding off his shoulders to propel itself more toward the brunette. A moment of panic passed over her, and she was only able to get a few shots off before the large monster tackled her under its massive bulk.

By some luck, Hilda ended up with her face against the monster's chest, just out of range of its maw. Controlling her panic, she fired both pistols into its body. With her panic under control, she was able to move herself with the monster when it tried to rear back so she wouldn't get within range of its mouth. Finally, after a couple dozen shots, the monster had enough and jumped off of her and to the side.

Hilda was about to move away when suddenly the lizard started bashing her with its tail over and over, each strike feeling like a war hammer. She tried moving away, but the strikes kept beating her back into place, until she could do nothing but curl into a ball with her knees in front of her chest and her arms protecting her face.

Suddenly, with a yell, Sigurd slashed his sword into the monster's tail, cutting nearly halfway to the bone. With a yell of pain, the monster jumped at him, head butting him onto his back. Mouth wide open, it lunged down upon him, its jaws powerful enough to crush cement.

Suddenly the monster's head jerked back, and Sigurd took the brief moment to roll and jump away. With a little distance between them, he was able to see it was not Hilda holding the monster back, but a newcomer. He was tall and thin, with several pieces of thin, minimal covering armor in black and blue, wearing a helmet in the shape of a dragon's head. Light was coming from his hand, where a blue ethereal serpentine head came out and was latched onto the lizard's horn, pulling its head back away from Sigurd.

The monster started resisting more violently, and the serpent dragon disappeared. The lizard turned around, and jumped at the intruder. The newcomer pulled a long, heavy bladed spear off a sling on his back, and jumped sideways, out of the way of the monster, and as soon as his feet touched the ground, he jumped back, slamming into the side of the lizard, driving his spear into its flank.

The monster roared, and bucked to the side, flinging the spearman and his spear through the railing and over the edge of the platform. Suddenly, another long necked dragon head came out of his hand, grabbed onto the ceiling, and pulled him back like a bungee cord. The tall man landed on the lizard's head, then jumped at the ceiling forty feet overhead. Clearing the distance in the blink of an eye, he flipped and jumped off the ceiling, driving his spear right into the monster's muzzle, pinning it to the ground.

He then jumped off and away from the monster. He lifted his hand, pointing his open palm at the lizard, and several small fires lit around the monster. They traveled across the ground, leaving glowing lines behind them until they formed the image of a dragon's head. Suddenly, a giant, ethereal dragon head game out of the ground, and grabbed the lizard in its massive jaws, and crushed it, sending gallons of blood across the floor of the platform.

A second later, the dragon disappeared, and the monster was dead. The newcomer then clicked his spear back onto the sling on his back, and offered a hand to Hilda, which she refused and got up on her own. Sigurd showed a little more gratitude.

"Thanks." He said, offering his hand. "It looked like we were in trouble there." The man took Sigurd's hand in a solid grip. He estimated the man to be around his mid-twenties, with a high cheeked, sharp eyed visage, and he couldn't see any traces of facial hair. Taking off the helmet, Sigurd could see he had bright blond hair, swept back in messy locks.

"There's no need for thanks, friend." He said, his voice soft, but stern, yet slightly melodious. "I was hoping to ask you two for a favor, and my timing turned out to be most fortuitous."

Even Sigurd was able to see that wasn't a promising sign, even if he hadn't caught the signal from Hilda. He quickly kept himself at alert and was cautious with his words. "Who are you?"

"My name is Balder. I wish to hire you for a job." He explained, not even batting an eyelash as Hilda kept to his blind spot.

"What kind of job?" Sigurd asked sharply.

"An escort job. I wish for escort to Kaigoumon, northwest of here. The Road will take too long, and I don't have the money to take the Airship." His tone was even throughout his explanation, regardless of the fact that he couldn't see Hilda behind him and Sigurd still hadn't sheathed his sword.

The silver haired Lauserian mulled it over in his head for a few seconds before Hilda spoke up, "Sorry, but no. We're just here to get enough for a couple of Airship tickets."

"And how long until you have enough?" Balder asked, not turning his head to look at Hilda. A few seconds without an answer passed before he continued, "Were you aware that Kaigoumon's Airship services cost less than half that of Jericho's? A half-day's trip, and we both win."

A few seconds later, Hilda asked, "How much?"

Balder closed his eyes and smirked slightly. "True Wanderers indeed. It's not enough that I help give you a discount on your flight." He turned around then to face Hilda. "How about this then: I don't have much money on me, but I have a cache in the bank in Kaigoumon. You help get me there safely, and I'll pay for your Airship tickets. Do we have an accord?"

After a few seconds, Sigurd was about to declare 'deal' when Hilda spoke up, making him shut up. "We'll think about it."

"That's fair enough." Balder stated. "I'll be in the Flan Ale Tavern for dinner at sundown. If I don't get an answer by then, I'll start looking for someone else." He nodded his head slightly, as if giving a minor bow, to both Hilda and Sigurd, and then walked to the stairway leading to another platform. A few minutes later, the man walked into one of the tunnels, and the two of them were alone once again.

"I say we go for it." Sigurd stated, out of the blue.

"You would." She retorted, giving him one of her lesser glares that still brought about a little cold sweat. "Did you notice that he was all too happy to keep some important details to himself, like _why_ he wants to make this trip, what he's doing here in Jericho in the first place, or the fact that he didn't even offer his last name?"

"I thought it was a great show of faith that he let you get behind him like that. If he's willing to trust us like that, I think we can trust him."

Hilda shook her head. "How naïve can you get?"

"Then look at it this way," Sigurd changed tactics, "at the very least, we end up somewhere that has cheaper airship tickets, and if he was lying about that, then there has got to be better jobs there than here. Besides, there's nothing out there we haven't already faced, so we're not really in any danger from the fauna. Either way, we still benefit."

Hilda shook her head again and looked away. She didn't want to admit it, but his last argument actually had logic. "Okay, let _me_ think about it for a while."

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Balder sipped his cider while staring at the wall in the commons of the Inn. He would never show it, but he was anxious to find out what those two Wanderer's he met would do with his offer. He and his group would need all the help they could get. He had already gone through dozens of plans on how to find out their views on the world, and determine if they would agree with Tempest's ideals. At least they had enough money to recruit 'him' in Kaigoumon.

Another reason he was anxious was because he wanted to get this assignment done and over with. As the leader of Tempest, he couldn't be away for too long, things would fall apart. Someone would start questioning his leadership ability, or the worth of their cause. In truth, there was enough sentiment around that they were aiming for the impossible, and he knew, though no one told him, that many blamed him for their lack of progress. He hated the fact that he was the only thing holding the group together. Besides all that, he was worried about Sarah.

He never told anyone this, but one of the reasons he traveled so much on his own was to hopefully find rumors or news about the Warriors of Light. He knew that if they were resurrected this generation, it would be to help Tempest achieve their ultimate goals.

He started digging back into his hash when he heard the door to the Inn open, and he saw the two Wanderers from before walk in. The brown haired woman had the look of fury fuming off of her like steam from a boiling pot. One man made a suggestive comment to her, and the glare she gave him made him fall out of his chair trying to move away from her.

Balder put down his fork and nodded to the duo. "So, have you come to a decision?"

The silver haired boy nodded. "When do you want to leave?"

The dragoon smirked inwardly and said, "Tomorrow morning, meet me at sunrise by the north gate."

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Hasheck pulled off his glove and wiped the sweat from his middle-aged face as he approached his house in the early evening after work. Master Balder left him with a few instructions that morning before he took off for Kaigoumon. He gave a sigh of relief knowing that he wasn't going to be asked to do anything dangerous. He dreaded every meeting he ever had with the Tempest leader. At least now he knew he would be able to spend at least some more time with his wife. That was what he feared most about the group, that they would order him to leave her.

When he opened the door and saw someone besides his wife sitting at the table of their small house, his senses went into high alert. The man was dressed in the black and silver robes of the Aquta Priesthood, and was conversing with his wife over some tea. When his wife saw him, she smiled and signaled him to come over to her.

"Honey, why didn't you tell me the distillery gave you a bonus?" She asked in an excited voice.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, Brother-Canon Iroquois here says he wanted to thank you personally for donating your entire bonus to the Aquta Priesthood." His wife explained.

The man stood up to his full height, and gave a joyful smile, his hands humbly crossed in front of him. _This man's good._ Hasheck thought. _He's acting the part of the priesthood down to a T._

The man bowed and said, "On behalf of all my Brothers and Sisters, Fathers and Mothers of the Canon, we would like to thank you for your most generous donation. It is when humble folks like you give out the fruits of your labor so willingly that I see the kindness of Zoroaster live on."

Hasheck knew he had to play along, at least until his wife was gone. "I'm just a simple man, trying to help others in need." He then sat at the table and turned to his wife. "Honey, why don't you go and see if we still have a bottle of vintage or two in the basement while I chat up our guest here?"

She nodded, and gave a warm smile to Brother-Canon Iroquois before walking off. After they heard a door close behind her, the guest said, "You're a lucky man to have such a generous woman as a wife."

"Whatever you're here for, don't involve her. It's me you want, isn't it?" Hasheck put as much a threatening edge to his voice as he could.

The man's entire demeanor changed then. He adopted a knowing smirk, with his body no longer holding the stiff perfect posture and now faced Hasheck in such a way that it almost reminded him of an animal ready to pounce. "All we want is some information."

"Who is this 'we' you speak of? You're not Aquta, are you?"

"Tempest doesn't pay you much, do they?" Iroquois asked, still in a calm voice. "They force you to take up a regular job on top of your orders just so you can survive." At the surprised look on Hasheck's face, he continued, "Oh yes, we've known about Tempest for quite some time. In truth, we expected Balder Kain to choose this path well before he took the first steps."

"K, Kain?" Hasheck sputtered. He had never been told what Master Balder's surname was.

Iroquois raised an eyebrow. "So, he never told you who he really was? He made such good use of you, and yet he never even told you who he really was, and who and what you were really fighting for, all just to protect himself while the rest of you risked you lives."

Hasheck stared at the table, the new information sinking in. He heard a loud 'clink' as the man impersonating an Aqutan Priest put a large bag on the table. Cautiously, Hasheck opened it to find a large stash of ten thousand gil coins.

"Five hundred thousand gil. A man your age should have plans for retirement, not working at a dead end job while your body wastes away. Your wife, certainly, deserves better."

After several moments of silence, Hasheck spoke, "He's heading for a dangerous man to recruit in Kaigoumon."

End of Chapter Three.

Author's Notes: before I forget again, I created the Roads because it doesn't make sense that normal people have to brave the dangerous wilderness or have to pay heavy fines for airship travel whenever they want to go to a different town or whatever. Don't worry, they're not just there for that, they have an important part to play in the story (or at least, their history does).

Also, I'm sorry I didn't update this along with Chronicles, like I said I would, and I'm sorry still to say this, but it might be a while before I update this story again. I've planned out most of what happens, especially the major events, but I haven't really planned out any kind of order to things, or how one thing leads into another. With any luck, I should be able to plan most of it out pretty quickly, because frankly, the way this story is progressing is kinda boring. I want things to start happening.

Anyways, here are the spells introduced and mentioned:

**Whirlpool:** Geomancy Spell. When around water, even shallow water, Hilda can create a stationary whirlpool that can drown slower or smaller monsters, or if the water is too shallow it can make it nearly impossible to get stable footing.

**Rot:** Geomancy Spell. When around decaying matter, Hilda can transfer that natural rot into a living creature, creating a poisoning effect. It's possible to pull this off in sewers because fecal matter is similar enough to decayed matter.

**Jump:** A Dragoon skill. I decided to make the Dragoon of this story have more than just one skill and be more like Freya, but this is the most basic of them. Using his long limbs, Balder is able to launch his light body in any direction at great speeds. I decided that, instead of jumping straight into the air (which is kinda ridiculous, as the enemy could just move a couple of feet to one side and he'll be fine), a dragoon can jump straight at the enemy at great speeds, or off the walls or the ceiling.

**Dragon Crest:** A Dragoon skill. Very similar to Freya's attack. Several small fires ignite on a flat surface, and move around, leaving glowing lines in the shape of a dragon's face, and an ethereal dragon comes out and crushes any nearby opponents. Though it can be created on nearly any surface, the head doesn't have much range, and it takes a few seconds for the crest to fully form. What it lacks in speed and accuracy, it makes up for with its powerful jaws, able to crush all but the most heavily armored of enemies.

**Dragon Grasp:** A Dragoon skill. Similar to Dragon Crest, and inspired somewhat by Orochimaru's Sen'ei Jashuu from Naruto. A small crest forms on Balder's hand, and instead of a thick dragon head, an ethereal serpentine head comes out on a long neck, and can either wrap around or latch onto an opponent or other object.


	5. The Monkey in the Gate

Author's Note: No, Balder is NOT related to Kain from FF4. I heard from a reliable source that Kain is Latin or something for Spear.

**Chapter Four: The Monkey in the Gate**

Kaigoumon wasn't far, distance wise, but the trip was made long and tiring due to large hills, some hundreds of feet high. The flora consisted of a few bushes and shrubs, though they were few and far between, leaving expansive areas of light brown dirt and hard rock. Scaling the cliff walls was considerably easier with Balder around, who could usually reach the top in a single leap, and let down a rope for his escorts to climb up.

The sun was hot, and the humidity scalding, leaving the trio dripping with sweat and fuming mirages. They went through their water supply halfway through the trip, and that was when their conversations dried up as well. The rest of the trip was left in utter silence, save for the occasional fight with monsters. Balder proved to be capable enough with monsters that Sigurd and Hilda usually left him alone, and in turn he was independent enough to use his own potions rather than ask Sigurd or Hilda to heal him whenever he got injured, though he offered their female companion some of the recovery liquid at times. His offers were usually met with hard glares and muttered 'chauvinist'.

Unfortunately, Kaigoumon was situated at the top of the tallest hill, atop a mesa flush against edge of a mile high cliff. The last leg of the journey was tiring, but the higher up they went, the drier it became; an event the trio was grateful for. When they reached the mesa, they saw obsidian walls surround a city that spanned nearly the entire five miles of the plateau. The Stellar Jay Road came in from the east, while the Junko Road came down from the north, along the edge of the cliff to the west.

As the trio walked up the stairway leading to the elevated Road to get to the gate entrance, Sigurd saw a river coming out of the northeastern corner of the city, cutting a slice in the mesa before it became a small waterfall leading to the north. "Where did that come from?" He asked.

"That's the Gates River." Balder explained. "It was said that the water god, Famfrit, blessed Kaigoumon after the Necromancer Crusade a thousand years ago with a spring that never dries up."

A few minutes later, the trio went through the gates into the city. The humidity rose up sharply, but the temperature took a nosedive, creating the feel of walking through a chilled mist. Sigurd had to stop himself from sighing in contentment, lest he make himself look stupid in front of his companions.

The buildings themselves were mostly ceramic with brick, with tiled rooftops and were rarely above three stories high. There were balconies and walkways above the streets on nearly every building, with fountains everywhere and miniature aqueducts carrying water to every ledge, acting as both water distribution and hand railing. Those buildings that were taller than three floors were towers and giant airship hangers with multi-tiered spires above them that were used as smaller docks. Sigurd noticed that many of the towers had airships that looked heavily armed and carried crests and insignias he didn't recognize, though he guessed them to be military. He even saw several soldiers walking the streets ahead of them.

"Strong military presence." Sigurd commented.

"There has to be." Balder replied. "Kaigoumon is an important trade town, as it's the only city in the northern Verniccio Providence with Roads connected to it. This is also a border town, right on the line between Verniccio, Moscroix, and Beluosus. The governments of all three providences send their soldiers here to even out the balance of power over this place, and share joint ownership, as any side that controls this trading hotspot with Roads going through it will gain a considerable advantage over the other two. So far, the only thing keeping any of the provinces from trying to take over is a tumultuous peace between the three kingdoms, and the agreement of even distribution of taxes from Kaigoumon. Things weren't always bad between them, not until the coup d'etat of Beluosus. All nations are on edge due to that."

Sigurd remembered hearing something about the coup on Beluosus. Being founded by the eighth Saint, Beluoso, the Kingdom was the oldest country in all of Terra, with some scholars believing it predated the Roads themselves. When the King was killed in the takeover, it was the first time Beluosus wasn't ruled by a member of the royal family in three thousand years.

After walking a few blocks, Baldur stopped, and faced his escorts. "I thank you for taking me this far, this is where we part ways." He nodded his dragon-motif head toward a food stand. "I'll meet you both here again in two hours with your payment. In the meantime, I suggest you find an airport and choose your flight. I don't wish to pay you off an estimate." With that he turned and walked down the street."

"Not one for long goodbyes." Sigurd mentioned.

"Good riddance." Hilda stated. "I still don't trust him."

Sigurd sighed. "That paranoia of yours won't earn you many friends."

"It keeps me alive." She shot back.

"It'll get you killed someday, I think." He countered. He then looked around the area, rubbed his sun baked face and neck. "I think that Inn should be good." He pointed to one with a big garish sign of yellow and purple that read: The Cold Spot. "Sounds like a nice place right about now."

Hilda guffawed. "Rhine, that's just advertising. Only the stupid and naïve would fall for such a gimmick."

Regardless, Sigurd marched toward it. "It's illegal to make false advertisements, right?"

Hilda pressed her palm to her face, wishing this wouldn't lead to a stress headache. Couldn't he tell how happy she was during the silent half of their trek? Didn't the infrequent scowls give it away?

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Baldur walked into the hostel, feeling somewhat sorry for deceiving his companions. He didn't need to visit a bank or cache, he had more than enough money on him, but he didn't want them to know. Too much money at one time drew questions, and neither he, nor Tempest, could afford unnecessary attention.

Part of him hoped they found an early flight to leave, knowing things in Kaigoumon were likely going to get crazy soon.

He gained the attention of an attendant, who asked him if he wanted anything. "Yes, I was supposed to meet someone, but I couldn't remember the name of the hostel he was staying at. I was wondering if you could check and see if he was here. His name is Sarutobi Sasuke."

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The lieutenant rushed through the halls with the missive in hand. Though he was officially a soldier of Moscroix, he had to deliver the message to _him_. No one knew his name, but everyone knew of him and his partners. The Horsemen of Beluosus, the whispers called them. As often as not, at least one of them were stationed in Kaigoumon.

He wasn't as politically minded as some, but he could tell their presence in Kaigoumon was meant to remind Verniccio and Moscroix of what those few individuals were capable of. What Beluosus was capable of. He knew the oldest country on Terra became a booming economic powerhouse after the coup d'etat, the standard of living was up, the homeless and unemployed were almost non-existent now, and it seemed like the people were happy.

With as little as he knew, he could tell other countries weren't happy with them. He hadn't heard any specifics, but he heard, in various ways, that the new ruling government had become something of a bully, using underhanded tactics and veiled threats to get their way. That big brute he had to deliver the missive to was certainly a threat that was veiled thinly.

He reached the arboretum of the Governmental Palace, the last known location of the man in question, and as soon as he opened the door, he recoiled in shock. The putrid stench was so bad, his eyes watered and he nearly lost balance from light headedness. The artificial sunlight lamps were turned off, leaving him wondering what was going on in there that could cause such a repugnant odor.

"What is it?" A voice that sounded vaguely like the Beluosus henchman, but much more craggy and raspy, demanded.

Denying the urge to lift his officer's uniform to cover his nose and mouth, he forced his back straight and said, "Sir, I bring a missive from Beluosus." He held the rolled up paper up with both hands, and presented it forward.

He nearly fainted when he saw the massive hand, literally nothing but bones and tendons dotted with rotted pieces of flesh, reach out from the shadows to take the scroll out of his hands. "Go." He said, simply.

The young lieutenant didn't need anymore encouragement than that to dismiss himself. Hours later, he would return to the Arboretum to see if the stench was still there, and he would never forget the image of every plant and tree dead, half decayed into compost.

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He didn't much care that he likely scared the officer enough to have nightmares well into old age, his power was a burden he had long ago come to accept. He broke the wax seal on the missive and unrolled it.

_My friend,_

_The one we have sought, the prodigal son in is Kaigoumon. He seeks Sasuke the Saboteur. You are to use yourself as bait to draw him out. Find a spot of neutral ground, a place where he can seek you out without fear of drawing attention to himself, and without fear of you drawing the ire of the other two holders of the city._

_Though I would never question your ability, make the appropriate preparations for in the event that either Kain, or mister Sasuke, should escape your trap, the city would immediately go into lockdown. This is a matter of utmost importance, do not let either of them escape alive. The Saboteur may seem inconsequential, but Tempest is a Hydra, more heads will crop up if a leader is cut off, but Sarutobi Sasuke is as irreplaceable, and potentially as dangerous, as Balder Kain._

_Chancellor Vadere._

He huffed a breath from his massive chest, and siphoning power into his hand, the paper crumbled into black leaflets.

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Balder knocked on the door three times and called, "Excuse me sir, can I come in?" After a few moments without a response, he checked the door knob, and found the door opened easily. "Mister Sasuke?" He called out.

He walked into the Spartan hostel room, noting the cot, the unpolished, uneven wooden floor, a table with two chairs and a window pane. He looked from side to side, finding nothing, and when he was about to turn around to leave, he felt two cold steel blades against the sides of his neck.

"What do you want?" A voice asked.

"My organization and I wish to hire your services, Sasuke the Saboteur." Balder replied, not moving a muscle more than necessary.

He felt one blade pull back, then heard the high frequency sound of metal vibrating as it was thrown tip down into the floor. Almost at the same instance, a hand reached around his neck and latched onto his throat, squeezing just enough to let him breath but show he could collapse his windpipe if necessary.

After a few seconds, the hand pulled back, and the voice behind him said, in an amused voice, "Well, your heart rate didn't speed up in the least. You're not a man easily thrown off, are you Balder Kain?"

Balder spun around in surprise. The man he found was hanging by his legs from the rafters of the ceiling. He wore a thick, quilted grey gi with a fishnet shirt showing between the folds at his chest and at the ends of his sleeves. Bending himself forward quickly, he showed some acrobatic flair as he flipped to his feet on floor, pulled his sword out of the floorboard, and sheathed both kodachi across the small of his back.

"How did you know who I was?" Balder demanded.

Sarutobi gave him a smirk, or at least he thought it was a smirk. It was hard to tell with his severe underbite, giving him a strong pout-like look, his tanned flat face, pocked by ridges as if he had pox as a child, and a huge, crooked nose. His wiry black hair was swept back across his scalp, and he had thick, wild sideburns. He was ugly. "I have ways of having my presence known to prospective clients."

Balder had to stop himself from furrowing his brow. He had to appear stoic. "You _wanted_ us to hire you?"

_He not only knows of us, he managed to track my movements, find my informants, and find ways to innocuously pass the right information to them._ Balder thought. _This guy is everything the stories say of him._

Sarutobi walked over to the cot, his client noticing he had a heavy slump to his back, and sat down. "So, shall we get down to business?" He asked, leaning back against the wall with his legs crossed. He looked over, and saw a large spider on the bed frame. He reached over, picked it up, and then popped it in his mouth.

Balder fought hard not to shudder at the sight. He suspected he was going to have less fun here than Sigurd and Hilda were having; though at a second thought, he didn't want to know what they were doing.

0000000000

Hilda hit Sigurd atop his silver pony tailed head. "Ow! What was that for?" He demanded. He purposefully didn't look at her in order to avoid her terrifying glare.

"'Looks like we'll spend one last night together'? If you say anything like that again, I'll pistol whip you!" She said, angrily. She wouldn't have been able to reach the top of his head like that had he not been sitting on his bed of their Inn room. They found out at the airport that they missed the daily flight to the Wind Shrine, and that they would have to wait until tomorrow. They got their prices, met up with Balder, and got their payment. Hilda had tried to swindle him out of a few hundred gil more than necessary, but Sigurd told him the honest price of the tickets before she could.

"Geez, I wasn't trying to get you into my bed." He insisted. "I was just making a statement." He opened his mouth to continue, but wisely stopped himself. He was going to say, 'I was going to say I enjoyed this little adventure, and I just wanted to thank you'. He was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate it.

Hilda harrumphed and went over to her bed. She knew he wasn't trying that, and that was part of what angered her. She didn't want to hear things that even unwittingly implied they were an item. There were few things that annoyed her more than country bumpkins, and one of them were honest bumpkins.

"Still, our adventure wasn't _that_ bad." He insisted.

Some small part of her was forced to admit it wasn't. An even smaller part of her admitted, much to the disgust of the rest of her, that she considered him to be something akin to a friend. _Not an actual friend, just something akin to it!_ She insisted.

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The following mourning, Balder wiped the morning dew off his forehead, looking out from the alleyway toward the distant towers. He heard some whisperings within Tempest, echoes saying he was impatient. Everyone was impatient, he just expected others to operate in a concise manner.

He wondered, for the hundredth time, what was taking Sasuke so long. They had made the plans the night before.

_Thirty minutes after the initial greetings, Balder and Sarutobi came to an accord on the payment, though it was substantially higher than the dragoon had hoped for. "Okay, your turn. What do you know about the siege of Beluosus?"_

_He shrugged. "I don't know anything about any siege." After a moment, seeing the anger flair in Balder's face, he elaborated. "If you're talking about the takeover of Castle Beluo, I wouldn't call that a siege. A siege is done with an army. The takeover of the Castle was accomplished with only four people, orchestrated by the then Duke Vadere."_

"_What?" Balder stood up fast enough to where he knocked over the chair he was sitting in. "Castle Beluo fell to only four people?"_

"_Well, the guard was significantly reduced after the war with Latros ended. The country was nearly bankrupt, and over half of the guard and military were volunteers. King Gungnir must have been retarded to think starting a war would help the economy." He laughed at that._

_Balder had to stop himself from strangling the ugly Saboteur-For-Hire for that last comment. The kingdom was a country of poor soil and heavy monster populations. Farms were rare, so the country was heavily dependant on trade for food. Thirty years earlier, the kingdom was facing a crisis from bandits attacking caravans in the days before widespread use of commercial airships. Most of the bandits came from Latros, and when the country's king refused to do anything about them, King Gungnir declared war against them. The eight year, unsuccessful war devastated the economy, trade nearly stopped, and thousands went hungry._

_Then the Coup took place, Vadere appointed himself Chancellor, and inexplicably, wealth returned to the country. "So Vadere and these four people took down Castle Beluo, who are they?"_

_Sarutobi shrugged his shoulders. "No one knows, and that's a subject not easily studied. Learning their well kept secrets is a risk I don't wanna take unless I'm paid well. All I've been able to find out is they're called the Four Horsemen by the Beluosus military. Apparently not even the higher military powers know who they are." He shrugged. "There's usually one stationed in Kaigoumon. That's why I decided to lure you here. I figured you'd want to find out about them quickly."_

"_You didn't _lure_ me here!" Balder insisted._

"_What would you call it?" Sarutobi asked, furrowing his bushy brows. "Just because you're a little club with a grudge who sometimes plays 'intrigue' doesn't mean you're anything special. You guys were hella easy, just admit it." He said it as if it were a fact, and not supposed to be insulting._

_Balder grit his teeth as the two of them started discussing plans for finding out more about the Four Horsemen._

It was nearly two hours after their scheduled rendezvous. He was asked to stay behind near the escape point: a rafting service on the Gates River. Buying the simple raft, and signing the waiver preventing lawsuits on the small company for letting them go without proper instruction or guidance, had come out of the expenses account, and he prayed it was worth it. If all went well, though, then the Horsemen of Beluosus would be down to three by the end of the day.

He heard the scratching of feet running across the cobblestone floors, and looked out of the alleyway to see Sarutobi running up to him. He looked like he was in a hurry. A very bad sign.

"Saru, what happened?" He asked hastily.

The slumped over man ran right past him, got behind a few sacks of garbage, started undoing his pants, and in record time was urinating against the wall.

Balder groaned. "Hey, Sasuke, we're in public!"

"Whatever, you weren't in a suit of armor in the governor's office for six hours, waiting to for him to leave so you could scour his office." Sarutobi defended himself.

"Why didn't you scour his office _before_ the governor showed up?" Balder demanded, patience wearing thin.

"It took longer than expected to get there; I only had, like, ten seconds to hide myself!" He sighed as he finished up.

Balder leaned his armored back against the ceramic wall, muttering, "Ten seconds, yeah right."

"I'm serious!" Sarutobi insisted. "I caught sight of the governor rounding the corner toward the office right before I closed the door!"

Balder turned his head in surprise at the bent-backed professional saboteur. He managed to slip into a suit of armor in only ten seconds? Could his back even straighten enough to allow that? "Whatever. Did you find out anything?"

"As a matter of fact," he pulled his pants up and retied his belt, "I did. The Horseman currently stationed here gave a missive to the governor, and apparently other officials in Kaigoumon, saying that he will go pray in the chapel from one until two in the afternoon each day. He made the announcement official so he could let them know not to disturb him with news or guards during that time."

Balder thought about this development for a minute. "That's…very good news, Saru. You wait here, if I'm not back by two-thirty, take the raft and get out of Kaigoumon." He started walking out of the alleyway.

"Hold on a second, we need a plan!" Sarutobi yelled after him.

"You stay there, that's an order from your client!" Balder yelled back, not breaking stride, before disappearing into the noon masses.

0000000000

Despite having ordered no escort, Balder still found two Kaigoumon sentries at the doors to the chapel, which was of the most common form of temples. The massive structure was constructed of black marble, set right at the edge of the cliff on the west edge of the city, the bottom half tapered as it neared the ground, while the top half consisted of gradually tapering floors, all supported by pillars in the shape of four crescent moons put back-to-back. Each floor above the halfway point was dedicated to worship of the thirteen gods, with the top three floors having no rooftops and no floors in the center so all three of them could see the sky; the lowest of those three being to Famfrit, where the water from the top two floors would drain to during the rains, the second being to Ultima, goddess of the sun, and the top being dedicated to Zeromus, god of the moon.

The bottom half was one large room, split into two floors by a series of catwalks suspended by massive pillars. This room symbolized the dual cosmic entities, the Great Dragon and the Golden Tiger. As he pushed open the double doors leading the central aisle, he saw someone kneeling in front of the alter at the far end of the room.

"In the primordial cosmos, before the ethereal and mortal realms existed, among the many specters there existed the Great Dragon and the Golden Tiger, before they chose their forms to appear before man." The man spoke, reading from the scripture. Balder thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, until he realized the man had to have been eight feet tall, but proportionately he was the same as anyone else. He could see little else of the man besides his very high collared cape, black as midnight, with Kanji symbols reading 'shikichi' or 'dead earth' on his back.

"The Golden Tiger, the celestial incarnation of chaos and change, became drawn to the Great Dragon, the celestial incarnation of stasis and creation. Upon the collision of the two, an unstoppable force colliding with an immovable object, the resulting force created the Heavens, the Earthly Plains, and the Outer Realms. The Great Dragon adopted the heavens as his domain, and declared himself the Heavenly Guardian. The Golden Tiger adopting the fledgling mortal realm as his turf, declaring himself the Terrestrial Guardian. Together, they evolved the specters into the Thirteen Gods, leaving all others to be spirits in their service, giving unto them the Outer Realms." He then turned around and faced Balder, both men at either end of the massive room.

The tan, almost olive skinned man, with nothing adorning his head except two rows of three burn dots, looked handsome, almost regal. He wore no shirt under his cape, showing off a muscular physique, and dark violet pants. "Are you planning on reciting how the Twelve Saints ended the Dark Epoch?" Balder asked.

"Have you ever wondered how the Great Dragon would appear, ever imagined his majesty?" The tall man replied.

"If he appeared before me, I would make my peace with whatever psychopomp I believed in at the time." Balder answered tersely.

"He was beautiful." The man turned and looked at the stained glass mural stretching the entire height of the room, depicting the two celestial guardians.

"So you think you've met him?" Balder humored, hefting his spear a few times while walking toward the man.

"Yes, at Lunaqua." He lifted his arms into the air in awe, showing his hands for the first time, which were several times larger than they should have been, even for his size. "He appeared before us all, revealing his beauty and brilliance." He then lowered his arms, and his voice took on a tone of anger, "And he took away the victory that should have been ours."

A part of Balder was intrigued by the man's words, there were very few theories of what actually happened that destroyed Lunaqua, but his anger pushed these curiosities aside. "I am Balder Kain, son of Gungnir Kain, the ninety-ninth king of Beluosus. You took away my family and my throne." He swung his spear into a ready position. "I'm here to reclaim them through your life!"

The Horseman huffed. "So you came after the weakest of us first. You should have brought an army."

"So you don't deny it." Balder stated, the thrill of his vengeance coursing through his veins. "Give me your name. Let me know the names of the Four Horsemen who took away what is mine by right!"

The enormous man turned sideways into a ready stance, and answered calmly. "Kill me and I'll tell you."

With a battle cry, Balder lunged forward, staying low to the ground using his powerful legs to propel him faster and faster forward, his footsteps breaking the stone tiled floor. At twenty feet away from the Horseman, he leapt with his spear forward to skewer the man. Five feet short of his target, a wall of rock blasted out of the ground, showering the area in dirt and gravel.

Unable to stop, Balder slammed into the wall, his spear sticking the entire length of its blade into the rock. Keeping his grip on the spear, he hung on the wall for a brief moment before using the leverage of his weapon to quickly prop his feet against the wall to pull it out, knowing his opponent could strike at any moment.

Right as he pulled his spear out, spikes shot out of the wall. He jumped back, but too slow as one of the spikes stabbed him in the side of the stomach, penetrating two inches before reaching its limit. After jumping back a few more feet, two more walls of solid rock shot out of the ground, ten feet to his left and right, and acting before anything could happen, he jumped into the air. Half a moment after he went airborne, the two walls smashed into each other, crushing the floor between them and creating a large plum of dust.

As he reached the zenith of his ascent, just past the midpoint of the room, he saw, fifty feet below him, the wall in front of the Horseman retreated into the floor, and the man stepped forward. As he started to fall, Balder angled himself so both his body and the numerous small fins and wings adorning his armor would direct his fall so he would fall on top of the man.

A moment before it was too late, the Horseman jumped back as Balder landed, and before the dragoon could retaliate, he punched the smaller man in the chest with his watermelon sized fist. The force of the strike threw the young prince into the nearest pew, shattering it to splinters, and every pew behind it until he hit the far wall, with still enough momentum to leave cracks in the wall.

His vision swimming and full of stars from the pain, Balder almost subconsciously reached for the straps to release his dented cuirass. As the armor fell off, releasing the pressure the bent metal pressed against his chest, Balder pulled a rope-wrapped bottle of blue liquid off his belt. Right then, through the line of destroyed pews, he saw the Horseman pull a large boulder out of the ground with the palm of his hand on top of it, as if it were glued to the rock, and reached back to throw it.

Foregoing downing the potion, Balder pushed himself onto his feet as best he quickly could with his broken ribs, and leapt to the side a moment before the boulder destroyed the wall he was thrown into. Spinning in midair, he twisted off the top, and as he landed and slid across the floor on his back, he drank the entire bottle in three painfully large gulps. As his ribs and puncture wound healed, he got back on his feet and leapt up to the second level catwalks, avoiding another boulder in the process.

Before he could come up with another strategy, two more boulders flew through the air, taking out the catwalk in front of and behind Balder. Unable to support his weight, the cables holding the walkway snapped, and he found himself falling to the floor under him. Landing in a crouch, he was about to jump away when the ground under him gave out like quicksand, and without any balance his back hit a wall of rock that wasn't there a moment ago. As soon as his back touched it, spikes shot out of the sides and curved around him, binding him in place.

The Horseman walked up to him at a leisurely pace, having not moved more than ten feet from where he was when the fight began. When they were face to face, he pulled back his fist, ready to crush Balder's head, but hesitated. After a few moments, he said, "Cut the head off this snake, and the body might not completely die. Tell us everything about your allies, and we might let you live, if we could find a way to use you."

"Are you really the weakest of the Four Horsemen?" Balder asked, defiantly.

"Yes. The others would have likely killed you too fast." The giant replied.

"Then I'll be sure to bring allies when I face them. Besides, you haven't told me your name yet."

"You haven't killed me yet."

"The operative word being 'yet'." Suddenly, a Dragon Crest formed around the Horseman, and the ethereal dragon head jumped up and closed its huge maw around him. In the nick of time, he raised his arms, and with the teeth stabbing him through the hands, he held the jaw open.

A moment later, the same crest formed on Balder's wall, and the dragon head came forward, pushing its summoner forward until the rock binds broke it disappeared. With the Horseman's arms occupied, Balder lifted his spear, and with a war cry, stabbed it through the man's heart.

As blood started to roll down the shaft, the dragon holding the man in place disappeared, and the Horseman's head rolled forward. "…ich." He muttered.

"What was that?" Balder mocked, anger in his voice as he pushed the spear another inch into the man's chest.

"My name is Lich. We're not the Four Horsemen; we're the Four Elemental Fiends." He lifted his head to look Balder in the eye, showing no signs of fear or pain, only an excited smirk. "And it's been a long time since anyone's killed me." As the words rolled off his tongue, his face and body shrunk into itself to the point of extreme emaciation, his eyes shriveled up and receded into his head. Balder, in shock, tried to pull his spear out as Lich's skin started to peel.

Suddenly his nose was assaulted by the most awful stench he had ever encountered. He then managed to get his spear out, and from the wound came a black miasma that magnified the smell. Balder was quick to make some distance between them, but the monster jumped after him, its fist pulled back to strike. Out of options, Balder let out a power gust of wind from his mouth, simultaneously pushing Lich away from him and forcing himself to move through the air faster due to propulsion, the Elemental Fiend never got the chance to strike.

Lich's face shifted into an expression whose meaning was lost to Balder from the lack of flesh on it. "Was there poison laced with that attack?" It asked, its voice now high and squeaky like grinding metal.

As soon as his feet touched the ground again, Balder made a random series of jumps to keep the Lich from guessing his next course of action. He tried to think, but the shock of what he had seen wouldn't let go of him. He killed the man, but he was able to turn himself undead! Now with no life in him, there were very few ways he could actually 'kill' the man, as any kind of normally fatal wound would only hinder him. He was powerful enough when he was mortal, and Balder didn't have any chest armor anymore.

As soon as he landed from the fourth jump, every inch of the room's floor cracked and jutted up against his feet so violently he lost his balance, falling onto the floor after it fell back down to it's normal resting place. The moment his back was on the floor, the ground shot up, creating a column firing upward toward an identical pillar coming from the ceiling, threatening to crush Balder.

As soon as he realized this, he rolled to the side and off the column, falling gracelessly onto the floor. Suddenly, spikes jutted out from the column, which broke near the base, and the thing toppled over in Balder's direction.

When he barely managed to roll out of the way, he knew he couldn't keep this up, and decided offense was his best option. He charged toward the monster, forcing every bit of power out of his legs that he could with each step, clearing the fifteen yards between them in only a couple seconds, before Lich could put up a defense, and rammed his spear, powered by his momentum, right into the monster's skull.

The Elemental Fiend took a step back, but its eyeless face quickly fixed its gaze on its opponent.

"Aw shit." He cursed, an instant before Lich punched him in the stomach, sending him to the other side of the room. He had hoped that, like some zombies, destroying the brain would finish him. As he slid to a halt, he was grateful the punch wasn't as powerful as the last one, and that it hit him in the stomach rather than the ribs, but it still took all his willpower to fight the pain enough to get back onto his feet.

He saw the monster pull the spear out of its skull and bend the metal shaft in its grip with just its thumb. Now he lost his most important armor _and_ his weapon. This wasn't about revenge anymore, this was about survival! Now the only options for killing him were immolation and complete destruction. Right then, he looked past Lich, and an idea came to him from what he saw. Again, offense was his best option, but if he failed, he likely wouldn't walk away as well off as he did previously, if he even survived.

Turning, he ran at the wall, jumped, and ran up the side of it as best he could. When his momentum and friction wore out, he stabbed the toe of his boot into the wall, creating an artificial foothold to propel himself more so toward the ceiling. There he jumped from rafter to rafter, while concentrating on a certain dragoon spell. When it was ready and already starting, he jumped to the rafter right above Lich, and planting his feet against the ceiling, he rocketed downward toward his foe. As he had thought might happen, it was as soon as the Dragon Crest was finished forming that Lich noticed the spell was right under him.

With that moment of distraction, Balder formed a Dragon Grasp spell in his hand, and a serpentine head shot out and grabbed the floor twenty feet away from his opponent, pulling him off the collision course. While Lich jumped above the short range of the forming dragon head, Balder landed with enough force to blast fragments of broken floor tile up, and then jumped at his now airborne opponent.

Forming a Dragon Grasp spell in each hand, the dragon heads shot out, past Lich and grabbed onto the alter behind him. Using that leverage and the Grasp spells to pull himself toward Lich even faster, he slammed both feet into the monster. The resulting impact sent the Elemental Fiend flying backward, through the stained glass window, and out away from the cliff bordering Kaigoumon, leading to a half mile drop straight down.

Balder managed to correct his flight enough to where he wouldn't hurt himself slamming into the alter, but took a moment to catch his breath, and peer over the edge through the broken glass. He saw Lich still falling. Even if he could somehow run straight up the cliff wall, it would take at least take several minutes, time enough for him to escape the city.

As he tiredly jogged, too tired to run, out of the chapel, he found himself suddenly the object of attention from two squadrons of military personnel.

"You there!" One of them demanded, his insignia showing him to be of high rank. "Stop right there! You are under arrest to be questioned in relation to the disturbances reported here."

_Oh this isn't happening._ With a moan, Balder jumped toward the nearest building, jumped onto its roof, and hoped the quickly ensuing bullets wouldn't hit him anywhere important.

0000000000

Near the eastern edge of the city, Sigurd walked out of a small building, Hilda following shortly after, looking thoroughly annoyed. "That's the fifth souvenir shop we've been to. What are you looking for?"

"Snow globes." Sigurd answered, turning his head to look both ways down the cobblestone street, looking for another promising shop.

"Snow globes?" Hilda repeated, slightly dumbfounded. "They had snow globes. I don't think I've ever seen a gift shop that didn't."

Seeing something to the east, Sigurd started walking that direction while talking, "None of them were what I was looking for. I'm hoping to find one with a miniature model of Kaigoumon in it. Old Lady Bachan is nuts about snow globes, and always buys them whenever the peddlers come by."

Hilda groaned in frustration. "I swear, Sigurd Rhine, if this side trip of yours ends in trouble, or us missing our flight, I will strangle you until you die. It seems like everything you do on a whim ends in trouble."

"There's that paranoia again." Sigurd muttered.

When he reached the shop he was eyeing, he saw it was a fabric store. He couldn't tell what it was at a distance due to the small writing and colored windows. Shaking his head, he turned, and saw Balder jumping down from the rooftops, no longer with his spear or his cuirass, revealing his regal blue shirt underneath. "Hey." He called out to him, but was somewhat confused when the dragoon flashed right past him, not even looking at him. "Hey!" He called again, then started running after him.

As soon as he did, he could feel a dark terror creep up on him, as if the Grim Reaper was cuddling against his back. Hilda must have been glaring at him again. Without thinking, he turned his head to see, and instantly regretted it as the feeling magnified when he saw Hilda indeed glaring at him while chasing him. Then his eyes widened when he saw that they, in turn, where being chased.

Hilda turned her head to follow the country bumpkin's gaze, and swore. "Sigurd, just run!"

Deciding to take her seriously, he did, and followed Balder through a few alleyways, and through what looked like a stable, but was actually a docking service for the river that ran under the streets from the spring in the middle of the city. There, Balder made a leap from the upper planks to the simple raft on the water, where a very ugly man with the worst posture Sigurd had ever seen was waiting. He was already untying the moorings before Balder had even leapt onto the boat.

As soon as he saw the water, he came to an immediate halt. He wasn't getting on _that_! A second later, Hilda came skidding to a stop next to him and said hurriedly, "Come on, they'll catch us!"

"No way, I'm not getting on that!" He stated.

Groaning again in frustration, and cursing every country bumpkin on Terra for banding together and engaging in eugenics in order to create the ultimate bumpkin right in front of her, she grabbed his armor, and using what strength she could from her small frame, hefted him off his feet, and jumped as hard as she could, barely clearing the distance to the raft.

"What the?" The monkey-like man in the boat said.

"Never mind them, just get us out of here!" Balder ordered. The man quickly complied, and used his legs to kick the raft away from the docks, giving them a small boost in speed. As soon as they were past the last mooring, Hilda slapped her palms together, and a whirlpool formed which created a small water tornado that took out the docks and any rafts that could be used to pursue them.

Within seconds, their raft passed under the outer wall, and they were free of Kaigoumon. Balder was quick to crash on his backside, glad that the troubles of the day were finally over with. However, a part of him acknowledged that the battle was a draw, and that if it hadn't ended the way it had, he would be dead.

"Who're they?" Sarutobi asked.

"They're friends, or close enough." Balder answered, staring straight up.

"Sig," Hilda said, after a moment of silence, 'do you remember what we were talking about, not even a minute ago?"

It took a moment for Sigurd to answer. He was trying to stay, as best he could, in the middle of the raft, and had an extremely nervous look on his face as he looked at the river surrounding them on all sides. "Uh…snow globes?"

With a yell, Hilda tackled him, and started strangling him. As Sarutobi started laughing at the scene, Balder came over and tried to break them up.

0000000000

Thousands of feet below Kaigoumon, at the base of the cliff bordering its western side, Lich laid there, staring straight up. He supposed it had been a couple hours since the wayward prince had 'defeated' him. Like the eternal earth, he was a patient man, and preferred to take things slow.

Though he was the slowest of the Elemental Fiends, and had the weakest magic, he liked to think he made up for it with his strength, the greatest of the Four, his power of Undeath, and how he was usually the hardest of them to be surprised. It was due to this last point that he made no visible reaction to a redhead suddenly appearing right above his face, when she made absolutely no sound sneaking up on him.

"By the Gods, can you suck anymore?" The woman, with vibrant red-gold hair and a beautiful, lightly tanned complexion complained.

If it weren't for the fact that all his limbs were broken off from the fall, he would've taken the opportunity to punch her. "Shut it, Maralith."

The short, lithe beauty stopped bending over his face and started walking around him. He could see she was wearing her usual red hakama and haori with golden dragon designs, with the long handles of her buster swords peeking over her shoulders. "Great behemoth shit, Lich, the prince had _better_ have been worth you turning undead, because I can't fucking stand this stench!"

"The faster you put me back together, the faster I can revert back. You may only have to deal with me for a couple hours, but I have to deal with the smell for the better part of a day after I turn back." Lich answered calmly. "And since you know about Kain, I suppose he sent you to be my backup?"

"Yes." Another voice, one belonging to a man, answered. Lich turned his head and saw the tall, extremely wide framed man with bluish green skin and thick, perforated gauntlets. "We were worried Tempest may have had an army nearby, knowing how protective they could be of the heir. But apparently we overestimated them, it seems most of them don't know who Balder really is. I suppose some of them might lose faith if they knew this was merely about revenge."

"So you're here as well, Krakken. The last one too?" Lich asked.

"No, it was decided to keep Tiamat near Duke Vadere. As unlikely as it is, this could have been a ploy to get us out of Castle Beluo." Krakken answered.

Maralith guffawed. "I guess our illustrious leader still has some use for that little shit of a pawn." She snickered a little after that before continuing. "Oh well, now that they have Sasuke the Saboteur, and they know we know they exist, they should finally strike soon. I'm tired of all this espionage choco-shit."

"Will we participate?" Lich asked. "We haven't had such a good fight since we took Castle Beluo, and Lunaqua was disappointing."

"Disappointing?" Krakken asked, then huffed, crossing his arms. "I suppose that's one why of putting it. We were lucky to have even survived that nightmare." He then turned his aquamarine eyes to Maralith. "But he does raise a good question: are we to participate when they attempt to retake it? And do try to watch your language, if you would."

Turning her gaze to Lich while flipping the bird to Krakken, she said, "It depends on whether or not the Enterprise is finished by then or not. If it's not, then we won't have anything better to do, so I guess we will."

With what little flesh was still under his peeled skin, Lich smiled, hoping those engineers would take their sweet time.

End of Chapter Four

Author's Notes: Like I said earlier, I needed to flesh out the plot a little bit. Not necessarily what happens, just when and how it happens. Oh, and I'll be moving this to the FFVII section. I'm sorry, Final Fantasy Crossovers section, but I'm like a dog: if I don't get loved, I run away.

So, a couple of notes before I move onto the new moves, which is really short this time, Kaigoumon roughly translates as Rendezvous Gate, Sarutobi translates as Flying Monkey, with Saru, his nickname, meaning Monkey. That's why I named the chapter such. Also, yes, I've tried to model Sarutobi after a monkey in many ways, and yes, he's named after the legendary fictional ninja, except it is westernized, so Sarutobi's his given name while Sasuke's his surname.

**Dragon Breath:** A dragoon skill. Balder can unleash a powerful wind torrent from his mouth, blowing back smaller enemies and slowing down some heavier advancing enemies. He can also inject a mild poison into the winds. If his feet aren't firmly planted, he can end up pushing himself back.

**Quake:** This was the spell Lich used to lift the floor of the entire room, similar in appearance to the Quake spell appearing in FFVIII, but instead of a twenty-by-twenty-foot area the spell normally affects, Lich is able to extend the spell to a much greater range.


End file.
